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A  UTHOR: 


MALLOCK,  W.  H. 
(WILLIAM  HURRELL) 


TITLE: 


LUCRETIUS 


PLACE: 


NEW  YORK 


DA  TE: 


1883 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES 
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Mallock,  <.illia-i  Hurrell,  1849-1923. 

Lucretius,  by  V; .  H.  I.!allock.   Ncv;  York,  John 
B.  Alden,  1883 . 


156   p.      a.^ii 


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LUCRETIUS 


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1 


BY 


W.    H.    MALLOCK 


ri 


NEW   YORK 
JOHN    B.    ALDEX,     PUBLISHER 

1883 


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—    )  ^ 


i>» 


jIk. 


GIFT  OF 


!40M 


1 6  1937 


NOTE. 

The  pro^e  tr^nsliitions  from  Lucretius  are  taken  in  the 
main,  with  hut  very  sliglit  aUerulions,  from  the  version 
of  Mr.  Muuro.     The  verse  translalious  are  my  own. 

W.  H.  M, 


COS^TENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    Introductory 7 

II.    The  Dawn  of  Physical  Science 16 

III.  The  SoieutitiL-  System  of  Lucretius- 

Sec.  I.  The  Analysis  of  Matter 27 

Sec.  II.  The  Formation  of  the  Universe 33 

Sec.  in.  The  Interaction  of  Material  Substances 48 

Sec.  IV.  The  Origin  of  Life  and  Species 45 

Sec.  V .  The  Nature  of  Life  and  Consciousness 50 

Sec.  VI.  Lucretius's  Theory  of  Vision 53 

Sec.  VII.  The  Mind  and  Sense 60 

Sec.  VIII.  The  Mortality  of  Mind  and  Soul 65 

Se^'.  TX.  The  Imperfection  and  MortaUty  of  the  Uni- 
verse    68 

Sec.  X.  The  History  of  Human  Progress 71 

IV.  The  Poem  of  Lucretius- 

Book  I 78 

Book  II 88 

Bookin 98 

Book  IV 107 

BookV 115 

Book  VI 125 

V.    Lucretius  as  a  Poet 131 

VI.    Lucretius  and  Modem  Thought 152 


LUCRETIUS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

As  WE  look  back  upon  the  worka  of  the  great  writers 
of  the  past— works  and  writers  with  which,  in  a  certain 
sense,  we  are  quite  familiar,  and  which  in  a  certain 
sense' are  as  famous  now  as  ever— it  will  sometimes  give 
us  a  strange,  and  almost  painful  shock,  if  we  realize 
how  very  few  of  these  can  be  still  said  to  live.     They 
have  their  immortality,  it  is  true;  but  they  have  passed 
to  it  through  the  grave  and  gate  of  death.     Their  forms 
are  still  heroic;  but  they  are  heroes  without  blood,  and 
shadowy;  and  we  seem  to  meet  them  in  a  dim  Elysium, 
not  in  the  world  around  us.     Or  else  we  may  compare 
them  to  bodies  embalmed  with  spices,  hidden  away  un- 
derground, and  to  be  studied  only  at  intervals,  in  the 
crypts  of  literature.    A  few,  a  few  only,  such  as  Horace 
ami  Shakespeare,  still  keep  their  fleshly  life  in  them, 
are  able  to  push  their  way  towards  us  through  the  dis- 
tractions and  cares  surrounding  us,  to  parley  with  these, 
and  to  show  us  how  to  meet  them,  and,  standing  close 
beside  us.  assail  us  with  living  voices. 

Amongst  this  small  minority  Lucretius  certainly  can 
claim  no  place.  When  his  own  language  was  still  living, 


8 


LUCRETIUS. 


wlien  men  in  the  extent  of  their  knowledge  and  their 
ways  of  thought  were  still  the  same  as  he  himself  knew 
them,  not  even  then  does  lie  seem  to  have  been  popular 
or  influential  And  men,  since  he  knew  them,  have 
grown  and  changed.  Knowledge  has  widened  in  ways 
he  never  dreamed  of;  new  tones  have  grown  into  human 
sentiment;  all  the  lights  and  shadows  of  life  have  shift- 
ed; and  its  whole  surface  has  been  dyed  with  different 
colors.  Naturally,  we  then— wt  of  the  modern  world 
— as  far  as  any  direct  influence  goes,  are  quite  beyond 
his  reach.  His  voice  is  not  as  our  voice;  it  is  of  a 
different  substance.  We  can  make  no  direct  response 
to  it.  At  his  note  our  minds  and  feelings  rouse  to 
no  movement.  It  comes  to  us  like  a  "horn  of  elf- 
land  faintly  blowing,"  and  we  know  that  it  was  meant 
for  other  ears  than  ours. 

But  the  case  of  Lucretius  is  in  some  w^ays  a  singular 
one;  and  this  very  remoteness  may  give  him,  in  these 
days,  a  sharp  and  vivid  interest  for  us.  that  has  long 
gone  from  poetry  to  which  in  many  ways  we  are  far 
nearer.  How  this  is,  we  shall  see  readily  when  we 
consider  the  work  he  did.  We  shall  see  why  he  had  as 
little  interest  as  he  had  for  his  own  epoch,  and  why  he 
has  as  much  as  he  has  for  ours.  Of  his  life  next  to 
nothing  is  known  for  certain,  beyond  the  fact  that  he 
was  a  Roman  of  probably  noble  family,  that  he  died  in 
the  prime  of  his  manhood,  about  half  a  century  before 
the  birth  of  Christ,  and  that  a  legend  ascribes  his  death 
to  the  effects  of  a  maddening  love-philtre.  What  his 
fame  rests  on,  what  makes  his  name  known  to  us,  is  a 
single  poem — or,  speaking  of  it  as  a  whole,  it  may  be 
perhaps  more  just  to  say,  a  single  treatise  in  verse.  For 
the  main  subject  of  this  poem  is  not  poetical;  nor,  in 
composing  it,  was    poetry  the  author's    first    object. 


INTRODUCTOUT. 


Primarily,  and  before  all  things,  the  work  is  a  scientific 
treatise — as  strictly  scientific  (at  least  in  the  author's  in- 
temion)  as  a  modern  treatise  on  optics,  or  geology,  or 
the  origin  of  species;  and,  except  as  far  as  metre  goes, 
it  has  in  many  places  as  little  of  poetry  as  these  have. 
Poetry,  it  is  true,  there  is  in  it — poetry  in  abundance; 
and  some  of  this  is  the  loftiest  in  all  Roman  literature. 
Continually,  too,  when  we  do  not  get  poetry,  we  are 
still  conscious  that  we  are  listening  to  a  poet.  All  this 
we  shall  come  to  see  by-aud-by.  But  it  will  be  well  first 
to  consider  the  work  only  in  its  primary  character,  that 
of  a  book  of  science;  for  here  is  the  foundation  of  its 
special  interest  for  ourselves;  and  our  interest  in  it, 
under  its  other  aspects,  is  largely  based  on  this. 

Lucretius  called  his  book  "An  Essay  on  the  Nature 
of  Things."  And  he  designed  it  to  be  a  complete  scien- 
tific explanation  of  the  universe,  and  the  relation  of  man 
to  it,  as  a  part  of  itself.  He  applies  the  same  method  to 
the  investigation  of  mind  and  matter;  of  human  and 
animal  life;  of  organic  and  inorganic  nature;  and  he 
describes  the  way  in  which  the  latter  has  risen  out  of 
the  former.  He  traces  the  evolution  of  the  present  uni- 
verse out  of  its  original  elements;  he  tells  us  how  the 
earth  became  fit  gradually  to  sustain  life  on  its  surface; 
he  explains  the  origin  of  the  existing  species  of  animals, 
man  included,  together  with  the  nature  of  consciousness 
and  the  grounds  of  knowledge.  And,  finally,  he  gives 
us  a  history  of  human  progress  and  civilization,  from  the 
rudest  to  the  most  advanced  stages,  explaining  the  origin 
Of  language,  of  the  state,  of  law,  and  the  development 
of  the  various  arts.  And  he  does  not  do  this  as  a  poet 
might  have  been  expected  to  do  it.  This  is  the  thing  of 
all  others  that  he  most  seeks  to  avoid.  He  wishes  to 
d^l  m  110  broad  effective  generalities,  no  picturesque 


10 


LUiJUETlC>^. 


metaphor.  He  seeks  to  drowu  no  homely  details  by  de- 
vices of  artistic  chiaroscuro.  He  bids  all  poetic  imag- 
ination, as  a  tempter,  get  behind  him.  One  l.y  c>iie,with 
all  the  method  he  can  master,  he  goes  into  the  questions 
that  are  before  him.  confusing  the  matter  with  lu.  oi  na 
mental  metaphors.  He  is  a  strict  utilitarian  in  hisehoice 
of  language.  He  cares  not  how  prosaic  he  is.  11 1>  great 
aim  is  to  explain  facts,  and  to  show  convincingly  that 
his  explanations  are  the  true  ones. 

Judged  of  as  an  exposition   of  what  really  is,  the 
science  of  Lucretius  is  of  course  conipletcly  valuele>s. 
And  yet  there  are  two  things  about  ii  which,  for  the 
present  generation,  must   give  it  a   peculiar   interest. 
One  of  these   things   is   that  very  valuelessness,  that 
strange,  grotesque  difference  to  all  our  modern  teaeli- 
ing.     But  such  a  difference  by  itself  would  not  creaie 
an  interest.     There  is  a  second  point  about  it,  just  as 
noticeable  as  the  first,  and  which,  indeed,  alone  mak.s 
the  first  worth  noticing— and  this  is  tlie  stran-e  likeness 
to  our  modern  teaching  that  runs  tluough  all  this  dif- 
ference.     Couched  under  otlier  forms,    arriv.  d  at  by 
other  courses,   the  first  principles  of  Lucretius,   and 
many  of  his  last  conclusions,  are  the  same,   or  are  all 
but  the  same,  as  those  which   are   now   startling  the 
world  as   new  revelations—revelations  so  new  and  so 
startling  that  we  can  as  yet  only  half  accept  them.     In 
the  first  place,  his  mission  and  his  attitude,  to  view  the 
matter  broadly,  are  entirely  analogous  to  those  of  our 
modern  physicists.     He   comes  forward  just   as  tin  y 
do,  as  the  champion  of  natural   science,  claiming  that 
by' it,  and  by  it  alone,  we  are  to  understand  man's  life. 
and  to  explain  the  universe.     It  is  his  doctrine,  just  as 
it  is  theirs,  that  no  event  can  occur  either  in  the  outei 
world  about  ne,  or  in  the  innor  world  of  our  own  cox\. 


TNTBODUCTORY. 


n 


sciousness,  that  is  not  connected  with  some  material 
change,  and  is  not  conceivably  explicable  in  terms  of 
matter.  And  he  makes  this  claim  for  science,  just  as 
it  is  made  now,  against  all  theology,  and  against  all 
religion.  To  these  he  ascribes,  just  as  is  done  by  some 
modern  thinkers,  a  large  part  of  the  ills  men  suffer  from. 
To  a  certain  extent,  too,  he  professes  the  belief,  so 
often  now  held  out  to  us,  that  when  once  religion,  with 
its  blighting  influence,  is  exterminated,  there  are  pros- 
pects of  "a  better,  and,  above  all,  a  happier  state  of 
existence."  for  the  human  race.  Indeed,  so  like  is 
much  of  his  general  language  to  what  we  hear  continu- 
ally in  our  own  day,  so  inspired  does  it  seem  to  be 
with  just  the  same  animus,  that  we  might  at  times 
almost  fancy  he  w^as  Professor  Tyndall,  or  one  of  the 
two  Mills,  confuting  the  arguments  of  Paley  or  of 
Butler,    or  deriding  the  narratives  of    the  book  of 

Genesis. 

But  it  is  not  in  his  general  attitude  only  that  he  is  so 
like  the  moderns.  With  less  exactness,  but  in  perhaps 
a  far  singular  manner,  he  seems  to  anticipate  many  of 
their  most  special  individual  doctrines.  The  evolution 
of  the  present  universe,  the  indestructibility  of  matter, 
tlie  struggle  for  existence,  the  survival  of  the  fittest,  the 
origin  of  language,  of  religion,  of  the  state,  of  law,  and 
the  progress  of  society  generally— on  these,  as  well  as  on 
numerous  other  points,  the  teachings  of  Lucretius  are 
in  strange  accordance  with  much  of  what  we  are  being 
taught  now.  To  us  these  things  are  being  told  as  en- 
tirely fresh  tidings— as  facts  and  theories  that  have  now 
for  the  first  time  dawned  on  the  human  spirit.  And  to 
a  certain  extent  there  is  a  truth  in  this;  but  to  a  certain 
extent  only.  The  same  thoughts  and  the  same  theories 
were  the  property  of  Lucretius  or  of  his  teacher;  and 


12 


L  VCRETIVS. 


they  have  now  come  back  to  the  world,  not  as  differ- 
ent things,  but  iis  the  same  things  changed. 

Here  is  tliat  double  fact  about  Lucretius  which  gives 
him  his  special  interest  for  us— the  Hlicness  of  his 
thoughts  to  much  of  the  thought  now.  and  also  the 
difference.  When  we  study  liini,  we  are  brought  face 
to  face  with  two  combatants— science  and  theology. 
When  we  look  about  us  now,  we  are  brought  face  to 
face  with  two  combatants— science  and  theology.  At 
first  these  two  pairs  seem  so  unlike  each  other,  that  we 
hardly  class  them  together,  or  make  any  comparison 
between  them,  or  their  modes  of  warfare.  If  we  look 
at  them  a  little  longer,  we  shall  see  they  are  the  same; 
and  then  for  the  first  time  shall  we  fully  realize  their 
unlikeuess,  just  as  we  tir^  fully  what  the  years 

have  done  for  a  man's  face,  when  we  connect  it  with 
what  it  once  was  when  a  boys.  In  the  days  of  Lucre- 
tius, materialism  and  theism  were  eacli.  as  it  were,  in 
their  boyhood;  and.  armed  with  simple  weapons,  they 
fought  a  boyisli  Ijattle.  If  we  look  l)ack  a  little  on 
what  they  then  were,  it  may  help  us  better  to  realize 
what  they  now  are,— how  each  lias  been  changed  by  tlie 
knowledge  of  new  perplexities— how  each,  armed  now 
with  weapons  so  far  more  formidable,  and  so  far  more 
skilful  in  the  use  of  them,  seems  less  confident  of  a 
final  victory— how  the  faces  of  eacli  have  lost  their  old 
rasli  confidence,  and  are  marked  by  deeper  lines  of 
thought  and  of  anxiety. 

In  making  this  comparison,  the  form  of  Lucretius's 
work  will  itself  be  of  some  assistance  to  us.  Were  a 
similar  work  to  be  written  in  our  time  in  a  similar 
form,  it  might  create  much  surprise,  but  could  not  com- 
mand much  attention;  and  even  that  of  Lucretius, 
when  first  given  to  the  world,  seems,  as  has  been 


INTRODtTCTORT. 


13 


already  said,  never  to  have  been  really  popu  ar  We 
may  perhaps  gain  some  notion  of  the  general  iteTary 
effect  of  it  if  we  conceive  Mr.  Tennyson,  instead  of 
writing    his  "Arthurian  Idylls,"  to  have  devoted  hi 

TaLts'to versifying  Mr.  ^'^^'^^'^^'^  ^'^^'^^^^^^^^^ 
and  *'  Descent  of  Man,"  using  the  views  of  that  philoso- 
pher as  a  text  for  a  passionate  invective  against  Angli- 
can  orthodoxy  and  the  doctrine  of  ongmal  sm^^^^^^^^ 
passionate  protest  that  when  we  were  ^-^^J^^^/^^^^^^^ 
superstitions,  the  complexion  of  our  whole  life  would 
change  and  human  society  become  a  nobler  thing.     In 
such  a 'composition  there  could  not  fail  to  be  passage 
of  powerful  and  lofty  poetry;  and  ^^u^^^^  ^^^^/^^^^^' 
hand  we  should  be  sure  to  trace  everywhere.    But  how- 
ever clearly  it  might  be  the  work  of  a  poet,  it  would 
viry  certainly  not  be  a  successful  poem.     0-r  -^m^ 
tion  for  the  author's  power  might  be  great;  but   our 
Xret  for  his  waste  of  it  would  be  greater.     But  as  r  - 
•  ^'as  Lucretius,  our  feelings  are   somewhat  d.f^ 
TlR-cientitlc  svMem  he  undertook  to  expound  was  to 
comprise  the  whole  circle  of  the  sciences  and  was    o 
unravel  the  whole  riddle  of  existence  with  a  rapidity 
nd    on^pletenessthat  no  one  now  so  much  as  di.ams^ 
of      From  a  poet's  standpoint,  therefore,  his  subject, 
iud.ed  as  a  whole,  possessed  a  sort  of  epic  grandeur. 
t"to  him  seemed  compatiV>le  with  the  ^tnctest  sc^i. 
tific  accuracy.     At  the  same  time,   n  its  details   and  m 
the  sort  of  reasonings  they  were  founded  on  and  sup 
loned  by  there  was  a  simplicity  that  made  them  less 
Tufi    than  we  should  imagine  to  be  expressed  in  verse. 
Inflc     the  form  in  which  Lucretius  gave  the  world  his 
^s    m  i^   tself  singularly  typical  of  how  far  a.c.i^ 
scence  is  removed  from  ours,  and  is  the  liveliest  illus- 
t  It  on  possible  of  the  sort  of  gulf  that  is  between  them. 


14 


LVCIIETIV'^. 


But  the   formttiat   Lucrethis  gave  Ins  wod.  is  va.u^ 
able  and  instructive  for  another  reasori  than   his      1  he 
poem  has  a  secondary  character,  >vith  ^vhl(■h  its  fonn 
i8  in  more  natural  keeping,  and  of  ^vlnch  it  is  a  >et 
more  special  expression.     Primarily,  a.  h.^  ..  ■  .  >a h i 
Lucretius  wrote  as  a  man  of  science,      lo  Huloctnnnh 
men  with  science,  with  accurate  science,  was  h.s  .nam 
object.     But  it  was  not  with   ^v\r^^.o  for  it.  .wn  sake. 
It  was  for  the  sake  of  the  cilVci   ii  wa>  i.    ■•  .ve  upon 
their  lives,  upon  their  hopes,  their  joys,  ihnr  pr.-.rtical 
conduct,  their  happiness.     What  tln>  effect  u  ,>s  to  be 
he  seems  to  think  in  a  lar-e  measure  self  evident.     At 
any  rate,  it  did  n  >!  need  the  same  elaborate  exposUion 
as  the  reasoning  winch  led  up  to  it.     But  stiil  at  the 
same  time  he  i<  perpetually  referrinir  to  it.  perpetually 
calling  the  attention  of  his  readers  to  it;  showing  ihem 
that  it-it  alone-i<.  thote-li  not  the  main  subject  of  his 
work,  at  anv  rate  llie  main  object  of  it.     ^^  hat  is  man  I 
whv  is  he  here?  what  h(.pe  lias  he  in  this  worMv   wIkU 
are'tlie  sources  of  his  joy<  ami  sorrowsV  how  shall  he 
choose  the  first  of  the.^^e,   an.l  avoid  the  latter*?   what 
thincrs  are  here  worth  livii.-  U^v-  and.  what  worth  w 
there  in  even  the  best  of  iliese?    Tliese  are  the  ultimate 
que'^tioiis  tliat  really  concern  men;  and  science  has  no 
general   value,    save   as   pr.'parin-   (nir   minds  to   meet 
them.    And.  as  Lucretius  views  it,  science  give    --  'his 
preparation   in  one  single  way.      It^  work   i<  t..   .-    .ate 
life;  tosliowus  lliat  life  is  self-centred,  self-bouiuled, 
and*,  in  so  far  as  it  is  sufficient  at  all.  self-sutlieient. 
Till  life  is  thus  isolated,  it  is  the  earnest,  the  tierce  belief 
of  Lucretius,  that  we  shall  never  have  it  at  its  best;  it 
will  be  full  of  miseries  and  solicitudes  which  need  not 
exist,  but  which  we.  tlirough  cur  f< -lly  and  headstrong 
ignorance,  create  ourselves,  for  our  own  torment.    What 


INTRODUCTORY. 


15 


•  ..  hP  regarded  life  when  thus  iso- 
nmnner  of  possession  ^^  legam  ^^^     ^^, -,  ^^uld 

lated.  what  l^^f  ^^^^.^^^^^^C  'f  equal  interest  for  us 
be  able  to  yield  -^^^^^^^^.^  and  suggests  an 
as  the  character  o  ^^^^^^J^^^  ^-^.^  ,ue  thought  of  our 
equally  significant  compai    on  ^^^  ^^^^  ^^ 

own  time.    Much      K  s  v        ^1^  ^^^^^^  ^^  ^^       ,er 
leal  treatment  of  his  su    c  ^^  ^  ^^^^^^ 

tuough  he  ims  not  -^  ^^wla  poet,  and  looked  at 

system;  and  the  ^-^,^  ^^U  give  to  these  opinions 
life  with  a  great  poet,  vision,  wu  fe 

a  special  value  and  ^^^""f'      ^^        :,,  h  is  a  work  that 
la  examining  his  wo  W,  th  ^,  th  .^^^^^^^ 

.0  longer  ^P-^-^^^u^  o^mP-^  ^^  ^  ^"^  ^^" 
any  of  our  ways  of  tlm^^^  |,,  ,,,,,Uning  some- 

fragment  of  ^^"«^^^^^-';;''     for  us  than  belongs  to  a 
tuing  that  has  ---  ^^^^^^^^  ^  ,e  examining  a  dis- 

luere  curious  antiquiy.  i^ere  of  our  own  day 

tant  landmark,  to  wKich  the  at^^^^^^  ^^^^^^^  ^^ 

i3  giving  a  new  ^'^^^"^f  ^f'' '^,,i^as  have  travelled^ 
far  in  twenty  centuries  men  s  nun  ^^^^^^^  .^  ^^^^.^  ^^, 

travelled  along  two  ^^«^^f.''^,  ^  .^pernatural  theories; 

planation  of  life  by  ^^^^^^^/^^J^^,^  ^f,  practical  teaching 
the  other  is  their  sentiments  and  their  p 

vith  regard  to  life  when  ^-Pl^^     ,,    ,,,  ^ork  of 

Thus,   in    -^^^^^XVl^^^^^ 
Lucretius,  our  ^-^  ^f  ,';,  Jrefore.  without  refer- 
iato  two  parts.    Let  us  1 1    ,  understand 

ence  to  the  literary    -^  J^^^^us  nUhods  of  obser^ 

accurately  his  --"f  ^^f^^r^onclusions.  general  and 
vation  and  reasoning,  and  the  c  ^^^^^  ^^^^  ^^^  ^^^^ 
particular,  that  he  amved  at    J  ^^^.  ^^^  ^^  ,^^ 

lue  main  message  was  that  he  wi.hea  .^^^^^^ 

-^'''-    }'''  "  iToef  "    andX  refractory  .  ^^- 
^    ,w>  "iiow,  as  a  poei,  n«  ^'^^ 


16 


irCRETIUS. 


THE  DAWN  OF  FUY^ICAL  ^CIEyCE.     17 


ject;  jmd  how,  in  prcxiaijiiinii-  mid  illustrating  its  rela- 
tions to  huinau  life,  aiul  to  human  passion,  he  made  it 
leati  up  to  and  suggest  poetry.  We  shall  so  be  brought 
to  understand  what  his  teacliing  was.  and  what  he  him- 
self  seemed  to  feel  were  the  results  of  it.  Then  we  may 
be  led  on  to  dwell  In-ietly  on  the  chief  points  of  differ- 
ence between  him  and  ii>,  — thouirh  in  making  such  a 
comparison  we  must  each  of  us  do  uruch  for  ourselves. 
And  further,  we  may  consider  Inietly— though  this  is 
the  matter  that  will  have   lea>t   int.-'rpst  fr.r  tiq — tlie 

"Essay  on  the  Nature  of  Tiiinus."  i..    ,..  _ not  as 

philosophy,  but  simply  us  a  lileraiy  [)rodiielioii,  as  a 
poem,  as  a  work  of  art  in  language,  that  is  dislingui^hed 
as  such  by  certain  technical  defects  and  excellences. 

What  then  we  shall  now  Ix-gin  with  C'n^iMering  is  the 
scientific  system  that  Lucretius  aims...  ;  .pounding  to 
u.s — what  it  w.as.  and  how  he  came  to  master  it.  To 
understand  this,  however,  it  will  be  necessary  to  go  a 
little  further  back  in  liistory.  and  try  to  realize  as  best 
we  may  the  nature  of  the  scienlitic  systems  that  had 
gone  before  it,  and  that  it  at  once  grew  out  of  aud 
superseded. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  DAWN  OF   PIIYSK  AI.   SCIENCE. 

"  The  impreL'-'  '  '  position  of  Science."  says  one  pf 
our  latest  and  mubi.  celebrated  scientitic  teachers,  "may 
be  stated  in  a  few  words.  We  claim  and  we  shall  wrest 
from  theology  the  entire  domain  of  cosmolodcal  theory." 
The  earliest  claim  aud  the  earliest  aim  of  science  was 
identical  with  this,  its  latest.  The  same  words  are  truQ 
of  it,  in  its  birth  and  in  its  maturity. 


The  birth  of  Science,  using  the  word  iu  the  sense  now 
popularly  aud  specially  attached  to  it,  is  not  an  event  so 
vague  as  one  might  expect  to  find  it.  It  is  an  event 
which,  so  far  as  we  know,  we  can  give  with  accuracy 
both  a  date  and  place  to.  In  the  Greek  city  of  Miletus, 
about  six  hundred  years  before  Christ,  there  tiourished 
a  certain  thoughtful  mau  named  Thales.  He  it  was 
who,  so  far  as  we  know,  was  the  tirst  man  of  science. 
He  caught  the  first  distinct  glimmer  of  a  scientific  con- 
ception of  things,  and  revealed  as  best  he  could  this  new 
light,  to  others.  This  event  was  a  momentous  one. 
The  details  of  it  are  far  remote:  we  have  but  few  and 
scanty  records  of  it.  But  let  us  do  our  best  to  realize 
what  its  nature  was. 

The  race  that  Thales  came  of,  and  amongst  whose 
ideas  he  was  nurtured,  was  a  race  singularly  keen,  in- 
quiring, intellectual,  and  imaginative.  They  fell,  there- 
fore, the  wonder  of  the  world,  and  the  need  for  an  ex- 
planation of  it.  But  for  a  long  time  tiiey  were  con- 
tented with  a  very  simple  answer.  In  one  point,  we 
must  remember,  they  were  very  unlike  ourselves.  One 
of  the  ideas  which  weighs  most  heavily  on  the  modern 
consciousness  is  the  sense  of  our  own  separation  from 
nature,  often  of  our  antagonism  to  it.  But  the  Greeks, 
amongst  whom  natural  science  took  its  rise,  were  con- 
scious of  no  such  separation.  They  felt  they  were  a 
part  of  nature,  akin  to  it,  in  harmony  with  it.  They 
were  indeed  themselves  but  one  of  nature's  forces. 
Now,  of  many  of  nature's  phenomena,  they  felt  that 
they  were  themselves  the  causes  and  the  controllers. 
But  besides  these,  there  were  others  which  they  could 
neither  cause  nor  control.  Here  was  their  first  problem: 
how  should  the;,  explain  these?  The  answer  was  obvi- 
ous.    These  were  the  workings  of  beings  like  them-" 


18 


LUlRETlUs. 


selves,  only  ludefiuitely  wiser  and  iiulefinitely  more 
powerful.  All  the  phenomena  of  naluie  iliey  at  once 
accounted  for,  so  far  as  they  realized  that  any  accour;t 
was  required  of  them,  by  an  anthropomorphic  polytlu'- 
isni;  or  in  other  words,  as  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold  mii^h' 
express  it.  all  that  was  done  in  the  world,  that  was  not 
done  by  ourselves,  was  done  and  condueled  by  a  race  of 
"mtignified  and  non-natural  men.' 

As,  however,  this  svstem  <»f  theoloiiy  became  m«>re 
detinite,  and  more  burdened  wilii  detail,  it  began  to 
jar  at  length  u}>on  finer  and  more  reflecting  minds. 
And  such — Thales  being  the  first  of  them — sought 
to  find  an  escape  from  it  in  some  simpler  and  nnn-e 
sedate  conception.  The  first  tran.>ition  lo  this — the 
first  bp'/iiuiing  of  the  change  from  theology  to  science — 
isa.  ...  L.uri(jus  one.  It  took  this  form.  Tlitdes  wu^ 
discontentei!  with  the  tlieory  that  represented  all  the 
changes  and  f-i^t^  of  the  universe  as  due  to  the  manip- 
ulation of  a  ;..vv  of  divine  animals.  It  was  a  theory 
lliat  was  arbitrary  grotesque,  and  inharmonious.  It 
needed  to  be  simj)lified  Accordingly  discarding  the 
divine  animal-  altogether,  he  suppo.-ed  tlie  universe  to 
be  a  divine  animal  itself,  living,  moving,  breathing  as 
men  <lo,  and  as  the  gods  were  supposed  to  do.  Thus 
one  of  the  philosophers  of  the  school  of  Thales  lauglit 
that  the  stars  w^ere  the  world's  breathing-holes.  This 
conception  seems  strange  and  quaint  to  us  now,  but 
still  it  was  a  true  step  in  ilie  direction  of  science. 
And  It  did  not  end  here.  This  theory  was  not 
allowed  lo  remain  as  a  mere  abstract  statement.  At- 
tempts were  at  once  made  to  conn*  ct  it  with  the 
'>b-'M'ved  fact>>  of  things.  The  mnteiiai  world,  or  in 
;...r  words  matter,  being  conceived  (.f  us  itself  alive, 
imd  as  a  single  living  thmi-   *''"  v...-  rv  of  the  shapes 


■  uj^d^^UtattjjjtgagjftSj 


■;N,i;i.,,,vji,v.,,.iipi|!ij^i/'iinin|;i;;;ii;.;Ni':i.,.. 


20 


LUCRETIUS 


Tim  DAWN  OF  PHYSICAL  SCIENCE.     10 

it  took  had  to  be  conceived  of  as  apparent  only,  not 
real — or,  at  any  rate,  all  equally  reducible  to  some 
common  unity.  Observation  of  facts  supplied  many 
cases  that  seemed  to  .show  that  this  was  so.  Yapors 
condensed  themselves  into  water;  ice  melted  into 
water;  snow^  melted  into  water;  and  conver.sely  water, 
or  moisture,  which  seemed  near  akin  to  it,  was  absorbed 
into  plants  and  animals,  and  sustained  their  life.  Life, 
again,  was  seen  to  depend  on  respiration;  and  thus  life 
and  living  bein_  med,  from  one  point  of  view,  to 

be  a  mode  of  air.  Similarl}',  fire  seemed  to  be  pos- 
sessed of  a  like  protean  power.  Heat,  fire's  primary 
quality,  was  seen  to  be  associated  with  life;  nearly 
every  substance  could  l)e  burnt,  and  reduced  to  fire; 
and  so  all  things,  it  was  argued,  had  originally  been 
composed  out  of  it.  Such  were  the  natural  obeserva- 
tions  of  the  first  physicists. — one  confining  his  attention 
lo  one  set  of  phenomena,  another  to  another,  being 
guided  in  his  choice  by  no  assignable  reason. 

Thus  one  of  them  taught  that  everything  was  really 
water;  another  that  everything  was  really  air;  another 
that  everything  was  really  fire;  another  that  every- 
thing was  really  some  unqualified  substance,  that  had 
the  power  of  giving  itself  a  number  of  contrary 
qualities. 

These  various  speculators  form  together  the  first 
scientific  school ;  and  in  spite  of  their  various  differences, 
they  agree  in  one  fundamental  point.  They  agree  in 
substituting  for  an  explanation  of  the  universe  that 
was  complicated  and  unverifiable,  one  that  was  simple, 
and  was  at  least  in  some  degree  capable  of  verification, 
and  in  some  degree  founded  upon  observation.  They 
made  the  power  of  nature  a  single  power,  contained 
within  herself,  and  immanent  everywhere;  they  taught 


THE  DAWN  OF  PHYSICAL  SCIENCE.     21 


20 


LUCRETIUS 


THE  DA  WX  OF  PHYSICAL  SCIENCE.     21 


that  this  power  was  material  imd  accessible  to  observa- 
tion,  and  they  tried  to  analyze  it  into  its  simplest 

form. 

Science  remained  in  this  stage  for  about  a  hundred 
years—that  is,  thinkers  for  about  that  time  treated 
"matter  as  though  it  was  endowed  with  life,  and  tried 
to  explain  the  universe  by  ascribing  to  it  the  powers 
and  the  character  of  an  animal  But  all  the  while  this 
school  of  thought  bore  within  itself  the  seeds  of  change; 
and  gradually  and  insensibly  its  exponents  were  car- 
ried beyond  it.  The  conception  of  the  world  acting  as 
an  animal,  insensibly  died  into,  or  got  confused  with, 
that  of  its  acting  under  law  as  an  automaton. 

Thus  Anaximander,  who  was  born  not  thirty  years 
after  Thales.  though  basing  his  speculations,  like 
Thales.  on  the  supposed  vitality  of  matter,  still  shows 
a  tendency  to  rise  out  of  this  conception,  or  at  least 
to  merge  it  m  another  He  it  was  who  taught  that 
the  real  substance  of  all  things  was  a  vague  uniform 
substance,  living,  but  without  qualities;  but  capable, 
by  virtue  of  its  life,  of  taking  different  qualities  to  dif- 
ferent parts  of  itself.  Thus,  he  teaches,  the  elemen- 
tary contraries,  warm  and  cold,  moist  and  dry,  were 
first  separated.  Up  to  this  point  he  seems  to  have 
thought  of  matter  as  acting  like  a  living  thing.  After 
this  he  seems  to  change  his  view  of  it.  and  to  treat  its 
movements  as  those  of  a  blind  and  dead  necessity. 
From  the  conflict  of  these  contraries,  he  teaches,  there 
arose  an  eternal  motion,  out  of  which  the  present 
universe  gradually  shaped  itself,  including  men,  and 
gods  also,  these  last  being  thus  the  product  of  natural 
action,  not  the  producers  of  it.  The  earth,  he  further 
teaches,  was  once  fluid,  and  has  been  evolved  slowly 
into  its  present  state.    Life  at  length  was  developed  on 


« 
* 


its  surface  through  the  interaction  of  heat  and  moisture, 
and  at  tirst  existed  only  in  the  water,  which  at  a 
former  epoch  covered  everything.  Gradually  much  of 
these  waters  dried  up,  and  a  number  of  living  creatures 
were  left  on  land.  These  organisms  slowly  adapted 
themselves  to  their  environment,  and  the  land  animals 
acquired  their  present  form. 

In  these  doctrines  we  see  certainly  the  germ  at  least 
of  a  more  advanced  conception  of  things.  The  first 
scientific  conception  has  already  given  birth  to  a  new 
and  antagonistic  one.  A  little  later  on  this  antagonism 
becomes  yet  more  marked;  and  it  grows  quite  plain 
that  this  early  school  of  science  is  divided  against 
itself. 

We  see  this  very  clearly  in  the  cases  of  Heracleitus* 
aiTd  Empedocles.  Both  of  these  still  look  for  the  first 
cause  of  things  as  they  are,  in  a  certain  living  will,  in 
a  certain  personal  character  that  inheres  in  matter.  It 
is  this  that  in  the  first  place  sets  things  in  motion;  but 
when  once  the  motion  has  begun,  they  seek  to  explain 
the  direction  of  it  by  essentially  inanimate  and  imper- 
sonal causes.  Thus  Empedocles,  as  his  principles  of 
movement,  postulates  two  quasi  personal  forces,  Strife 
and  Love.  But  having  started  with  these,  he  at  once 
ceases  to  be  personal :  and  analyzing  all  substances,  not 
into  water,  air,  or  fire,  or  a  vague  and  illimitable  mat- 
ter, but  into  a  combination  of  all  of  these— into  what, 
in  fact,  we  still  are  accustomed  to  call  the  four  ele- 
ments—he tries  to  show  how  things  of  necessity 
evolved  themselves  out  of  manifold  and  long-continued 
combinations  of  these. 


*  Heracleitus  has  received  much  attention  in  Germany  as  a 
metaphysician,  as  well  as  a  man  of  science 
last  character  that  he  is  here  alluded  to. 


It  is  only  in  this 


on 


J.LrliETirS. 


THE  DAWN  OF  PHYSICAL   ^ClEyCE.      23 


ircRETirs. 


nil::  DAwy  of  phw^ical  .science.    23 


As  n  spocimcn  of  the  way   in  wliicli  Empecoclcs 
Avorked  out  his  tin  it  may  he  menlioned  that  his 

ucToinit  of  the  origin  of  species  is  to  a  great  extent  the 
same  MS  that  of  3Ir.  Darwin.  All  sorts  of  living  crea- 
tures, lie  taught,  111  si  appeared  o\\  the  earth,  raany  of 
them  unable  to  defend  or  to  reproduce  themselves,  and 
thus  perished  in  the  inevitable  struggle  for  existence. 
The  fittest  alone  survived  by  this  proce  natural 

selection,  and  these  ju*e  tlie  races  of  men  and  animals 
that  are  now  living.  Here,  then,  is  a  picturesqui' 
illustration  of  the  growing  inr< )iisi<;  with  itself  of 

the  first  school  of  science.     We  hive  Strifeaud^Love  to 

explain  the  Ifegitiuing  of  motion,  and  a  crude  Diirwin: 

ism  to  explain  the  results  of  it. 

The    inconsistency  thus  indicated  was  due  to  the 
growing  distinctness  of  T  parate  ideas,  which  men 

still  tried  to  identify,  and  onlv  ended  bv  ronfusiuc: 
them.  This  confusion  was  llrst  reduced  to  order  l)v 
*^  mother  thinker  of  t.        .me  period,  who 

may  be  said  to  h  >en  the  precursor  of  the  second 

school  of  science,  by  expressing  the  double  idea  that 
was  implicit  in  tlie  tirst.  lie  no  longer  treats  the 
world  as  an  animal,  or  matter  as  living,  and  leavened 
with  such   alTeetioi  mid   hale.     The  matter 

there  was  to  be  i  ..  and  tlie  force  there  was  to  move 

it,  he  first  expressly  teaclies.  are  two  distinct  things. 
"Matter,"  he  said,  as  an  epitome  of  this  teaching,  "  was 
originally  without  form  and  void— all  its  par°ts  were 
confused  together:  then  Mind  came,  and  wrought  it  into 
form  and  order."  But  not  only  was  this  general  prin- 
cipal an  advance  on  what  had  been  before;  he  made  a 
great  step  al-o  in  tlie  working  out  of  it,  through  his 
new  analy^  ,-.     This,  he  taught,  consists  of 

an  infinite  number  of  minute  eleinentary  [larticles,  of  a 


% 


vast  variety  of  kinds, — such  as  wuiiM  be  prudiiced 
could  we  turn  all  the  wood  in  the  world  to  sawdust, 
grind  all  tlie  stone  in  the  world  to  powder,  file  all  llie 
inetals  in  the  world  into  the  same  condition,  and  treat 
all  the  other  substances  we  >ee  about  us  in  a  like  man- 
ner. And  the  present  onit  r  of  things  was  produced 
by  the  gradual  cohering  toi;<.'tli!.'r  of  like  panicles,  the 
elementary  stone  dust  becoming  stone,  wood-dust  wood, 
iron-dust  iron,  ;ind  s(»  oii.  Tiiis  proe>  bs,  he  taught,  as 
has  been  said  before,  was  not  initiatcil  by  the  i>articles 
themselves,  or  any  principle  inunanent  in  ihem,  but  by 
an  intelligent  and  designing  Mind,  independent  of  and 
external  to  them.  But  in  his  appliealiuti  of  this  theory, 
Auaxagoras  uses  his  3Iind  only  lo  account  for  the 
beginning  of  a  mechanical  movement  of  the  particles, 
and  he  then  leaves  these  to  do  all  tii'-  rt -^t  for  them- 
selves. That  mechanical  niovemeiil  Ix  ^un  as  a  revo- 
lution of  the  particles  at  a  single  point.  Then  gradu- 
ally ever-increasing  m:  .-  <  .  were  diiwii  into  this  vortex, 
which  is  still  extendin-  further  and  further  into  the 
infinite  realm  of  matler;  and  out  of  this  movement, 
without  any  succeeding  intervention  of  Mind,  the 
universe  as  we  know  it  has  evolvcti  itself. 

Anaxagoras  flourished  only  a  century  after  Thales. 
Cetus  see  how  tar,  in  this  short  time,  the  mind  had 
w^andered  away  from,  and  advanced  bejond.  its  original 
crude  theological  explanation  of  things.  First,  as  we 
liave  seen  already,  men  regarded  the  universe  as  worked 
and  ordered  by  a  race  of  divine  animals,  who  wero 
themselves  an  essential  part  of  it.  Next,  they  regarded 
the  universe  as  a  single  divine  animal  in  itself.  Next, 
from  reflecting  more  systenuitically  on  this  animal's 
ways,  they  came  insensibly  to  change  their  conception 
of  it,  and  to  aseri!>e  to  its  movements,  in  a  great  meae^ 


24 


LUCRETIUS. 


ure,  a  certain  blind  and  essentially  impersonal  neces- 
sity. Ntixt  they  c;inie  to  realize  that  they  were  really 
entertaining  the  idea  of  two  principles,  and  consciously 
and  expliciily  lliey  learnt  to  distinguish  between  and 
to  8e{Kirate  them.  The  universe  was  once  more  not  a 
living  thing  fur  them;  its  jihenomena  were  now  caused 
no  longer  by  a  set  of  beings  of  like  passions  with 
ourselves,  and  of  like  ways  of  acting,  but  by  a  single 
supreme  intelligence,  passionless  and  bodiless,  which, 
though  the  origuial  cause  of  all  we  m c  around  us, 
did  not  cause  or  interfere  with  anything  of  this 
directly.  All  it  was  supposed  to  have  done  was  to  have 
given  matter,  in  the  first  phi  -hove,  and  after  tljat, 

as  Goethe  says,    "to  sit  apart,  and  watch  the  world 
go-" 

This  stage  formed  a  new  point  of  departure.  The 
conception  now  arrived  at  is  this,  of  the  universe  on 
the  one  hand,  as  a  machine  in  motion,  and  of  an  active 
intelligence  on  the  other,  to  wiioni  in  some  way  tlie 
motioul  is  attrit:)utable.  But  there  is  tliis  important 
point  to  notice.  Mind,  accordin-  !.•  this  theory,  did 
not  itself  form  the  univer^'  into  the  niacliine  it  is,' still 
less  is  it  at  the  ])reseiil  time  turning  tlie  handle.  All 
it  did  was  to  give  matter  an  original  impetus.  l)v  which 
matter  was  itself  enabled  to  form  itself  into  a  n'lachine. 
and  a  machiu-  iuing  within  its.  If  thenceforward  its 

own  principle  of  motioi].  3Iii!d  am]  matter  being  thus 
distinctly  separated,  and  the  connection  betwee^n  the 
two  being  made  so  vague,  and  to  all  appearance  so  tem- 
porary, the  ne.xt  step  in  scientitlc  thought  was  to  dis- 
card this  Mind  altogether,  and  to  endow  matter  with 
the  power  of  starting  its  own  movement,  as  well  as  of 
continuing  it.  Thus  Mind,  Design,  and  Life.  ;  s  prin- 
Ciples  of  things,  disappeared  altogether,  and  came  back 


T    .i*^"' 


THE  DAWN  OF  PHYSICAL  SCIENCE.     25 

in  au  entirely  changed  position.  The  case  indeed  was 
simply  reversed.  Henceforward,  instead  of  the  motion 
of  matter  being  looked  upon  as  the  effect  of  a  self-de- 
pendent life,  life  was  looked  upon  as  the  product  of  the 
self-dependent  motion  of  matter. 

The  conception  of  this  general  theory  formed  a  new 
epoch  in  science.  Nor  was  it  only  as  a  general  theory 
that  it  was  in  advance  of  what  had  gone  before.  Its 
exponents  at  once  began  to  work  it  out  in  a  more  exact 
way.  They  reduced  these  various  doctrines  to  a  com- 
plete system ;  and  not  only  this,  but  they  did  their  best 
to  test  them,  and  to  raise  them  from  the  state  of  as- 
sumptions to  that  of  verified  facts. 

The  father  of  this  new  school  was  Democritus,  who 
flourished  a  generation  later  than  Anaxagoras,  and 
about  a  century  and  a  half  after  the  death  of  Thales. 
A  century  later  still,  this  system  of  science  was  pro- 
pounded afresh,  and  given  fresh  currency  to,  by  Epi- 
curus, who  also  introduced  into  it  some  slight  modifica- 
tions. And  it  is  this  system  that  Lucretius  learned  from 
Epicurus,  and  that  we  are  about  to  consider  at  length, 
as  set  forth  by  him. 

Before  going  on  to  do  this,  there  are  one  or  two  points 
to  remember.  All  the  scientific  progress  we  have  just 
been  speaking  of  was  confined  to  the  Greek  world,  and 
not  even  amongst  the  Greeks  were  its  teachings  univer- 
sally accepted.  With  the  general  public,  theology  and 
polytheism  continued  to  hold  its  own,  and  the  allegiance 
of  the  world  of  thought  was  divided  between  it  and 
metaphysical  systems,  which,  though  equally  opposed 
to  the  popular  theology,  can  yet  not  be  called  science  at 
all.  Outside  the  Greek  world,  this  advanced  thought 
had  for  a  long  while  little  influence.  Rome  for  centu- 
ries felt  nothing  of  it,  but  lay  buried  in  what  to  the 
eyes  of  a  great  philosopher  would  have  seemed  savage 


I 


26 


LUCRETIUS 


and  dL4)asing  superstition.  By  the  time  of  Lucretius, 
Greek  culture  was  extending,  and  witli  it  there  was  be- 
ginning a  gradual  dawn  of  scepticism  over  the  Roman 
world.  But  the  mass  of  men  as  he  found  them  were 
still  under  the  dominion  of  the  old  errors— still  had 
their  minds  darkened  by  a  faith  more  or  less  fervent  in 
the  old  supernatural  theory  of  things.  The  aim  of  Lu- 
cretius was  to  preach  to  them  a  new  gospel,  which 
should  once  and  for  all  clear  their  mental  vision,  and 
give  them  a  new  and  a  healthier  view  of  life.  Such  a 
gospel  he  conceived  himself  to  have  found  in  the 
scientific  system  of  Epicurus,  and  in  his  practical  de- 
ductions from  it.  It  was  rliis  that  he  set  himself  to 
preach  to  the  Roman  people,  for  tlieir  lil)cration  and 
their  new  birth  to  lil)erty;  and  he  w  ■  in  the 

power  of  it,  not  liecause  it  was  plaii<ihle,  or  because  it 
was  pleasinj,^  Inu  first,  and  before  all  things,  because  he 
held  it  to  be  in  demonstrable  accordance  with  fact;  be- 
cause it  was  based  upon  observation  and  experiment, 
not  on  fancy;  and  because  from  first  to  last  its  hypothe- 
668  were  capable  of  verification.  It  is  this  scientific 
system  we  are  li  "iit  to  consider;  and  that  it  was 
conceived  by  Lurcretii  '  his  master  to  possess  these 
characteristics  that  liave  just  been  mentioned,  will  be- 
come plain  when  we  see  ht>\v  they  criticised  the  systems 
whicli  they  .;<signed  theirs  to  replace. 

In  our  exammtttiou  of  this  system,  it  will  be  as  well 
to  treat  it  as  though  it  were  the  real  property  of  Lucre- 
tius; and  this  mainly  for  the  -rdve  of  convenience.  But 
we  must  at  the  same  time  remember  that  though  he 
v.'as,  and  professed  to  be,  in  the  main,  expounding  the 
discoveries  of  anotlier.  ht-  had  to  some  extent  really 
made  them  his  own,  by  careful  attempts  at  verifying  all 
their  (letai'  ;   that   lie  liail  proVtably  also  added  to 

them,  and  peihai  lilled  them,  himself. 


i 


4. 


SCIENTIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS.     27 


CHAPTER  IIL 

THE  SCIENTIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS. 
SECTION  I. 

THE  ANALYSIS  OF  MATTER. 

TnE  problem  Lucretius  set  himself  to  solve  w^as  a 
dou])le  one.  First,  AVhat  was  the  original  nature  of 
matter?  secondly.  By  what  process  has  it  in  the  course 
of  time  juri\ed  at  its  present  state?  And  the  solution 
he  offered  was  the  joint  product  of  certahi  <)  priori  as- 
sumptions and  reflections,  and  a  keen  and  extensive  ob- 
servation of  natural  facts. 

His  first  great  assumption,  and  his  first  great  observa- 
tion, were  as  follows:  He  assumed  that  all  our  knowl- 
edge was  derived  from  sense, — that  the  senses  were  the 
only  channels  and  the  only  tests  of  truth;  he  observed 
that  the  order  of  things  revealetl  to  him  by  his  senses, 
and  whose  secrets  he  had  set  himself  to  explain,  was 
something  not  capricious,  but  acting  in  a  fixed  way, 
and  therefore  really  constant  under  all  apparent  change. 
"Without  fixed  seasons  of  rain,"  he  says,  '*the  earth 
is  unable  to  put  forth  its  gladdening  produce;  nor, 
again,  if  kept  from  food,  could  the  nature  of  living 
things  continue  its  kind  and  sustain  life."  "Or  again," 
he  asks,  "why  should  not  some  men  outlive  many  gen- 
erations, if  it  were  not  that  an  unchanging  matter  had 
been  assigned  for  begetting  things,  and  what  can  arise 
out  of  this  matter,  is  fixed?"  He  observes,  further,  an- 
other set  of  facts.  "  Rain  dies,  but  goodly  crops  spring 
up,  and  boughs  are  green  with  leaves  upon  the  trees. 
Trees  themselves  are  laden  with  fruit;  by  them  in  turn 


ii<!' jLjL'j'iMiijuBW.  ■hMSTiiirSaBiBaSi'  ■.  ■■'  <"—►«..'.  ijiau.jiBat». 


28 


LUCRETIUS. 


our  race  and  the  race  of  wild  beasts  are  fed;  by  them 
^^e  I  towns  teem  with  children,  and  the  leafy 

forests  riu^-  on  all  sides  with  the  song  of  new  birds." 
And  from  this  Lucretius  arrives  at  another  general 
conclusion.  *'  Nature."  he  says.  "  dissolves  everything 
back   into  its  first  bodies,   and  does   not   annihilate 

things." 

Here,  then,  he  has  two  broad  generalizations  to  start 
with.  Nature  is  uniform;  and  nothing  in  nature  can 
come  out  of  or  return  to  nothing.  The  first  of  these 
conclusions  he  thinks  can  stand  by  itself.  He  seeks  to 
verify  the  last  one  thus:  If  it  be  not  so— if  things  can 
come  from  nothing— then  aiiylhiug  niiglit  come  out  of 
anything.  3Ieu  might  spring  out  of  the  sea,  fish  out  of 
the  earth,  birds  out  of  the  air.  In  a  word,  there  could 
be  no  such  uniformity  in  the  world  as  there  very  cer- 
tainly is.  Again,  for  a  like  reason,  it  is  plain  that  noth- 
ing can  turn  into  nothing;  for  in  that  case  objects  might 
suddenly  disappear,  without  any  external  force  destroy- 
ing them.  But  this,  it  is  very  certain,  they  never  do. 
And  again,  if  things  could  ever  turn  into  nothing,  every- 
ihing  would  by  this  time  have  vanished:  "eaten  up  by 
the  infinite  time  gone  by."  And  'any  amount  of  force 
iuust  of  course  undo  the  texture  of  things  in  which  no 
parts  at  all  were  of  an  everlasting  body." 

He  has  thus  settled  that  the  universe  he  has  to 
account  for  is  made  up  of  a  matter  that,  in  obedience 
to  fixed  laws,  is  perpetually  changing  its  appearance, 
and  yet  is  never  destroyed.  To  w^hat  is  this  matter 
reducible  in  its  last  analysis?  Lucretius  answ^ers,  to 
two  things  — empty  space,  and  atoms.  These  atoms 
are  particles  of  an  inconceivable  minuteness,  and  are 
alike  in  the  absence  of  all  attributes  or  qualities, 
except  solidity,  indestructibility,  weight,   and   figure, 


SCIENTIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS,    29 

They  are  far  too  small  for  sight  to  take  any  account 
of;  but  this  need  not  make  us  doubtful  of  their 
material  reality.  We  can  neither  see  the  wind,  or 
smells,  or  sounds,  or  heat,  or  cold;  and  "yet,"  says 
Lucretius,  "  all  these  things  must  be  material,  because 
they  touch  the  senses."  Equally  necessary,  too,  is  the 
existence  of  empty  space.  For  if  it  were  not  for  this 
there  could  be  no  motion;  everything  would  be  a 
single  solid  mass.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact  we  may  see 
that  even  things  that  seem  solid  are  not  solid  really — 
stones,  for  instance,  through  which  water  often  oozes. 
Further,  bodies  of  equal  bulk  weigh  differently, — from 
which  it  is  plain  that  some  have  more  void  than  others. 
But  though  empty  space  seems  thus  to  enter  into  every- 
thing, there  are  some  bodies  that  are  absolutely  solid; 
and  such  are  the  atoms  themselves,  the  first  beginnings 
of  things.  For  unless  these  were  solid,  there  would  be 
no  matter  at  all.  The  universe  would  be  empty  space. 
Equally  necessary,  too,  is  it  that  the  atoms  should  be 
indivisible;  because,  Lucretius  aptly  argues,  if  nature 
bad  set  no  limits  to  the  breaking  of  things,  bodies  of 
matter  would  have  been  by  this  time  so  pulverized  that 
nothing  could  within  a  fixed  time  be  conceived  out  of 
them,  and  "reach  its  utmost  growth  of  being." 

Lucretius  contrasts  this  analysis  of  matter  with  those 
of  the  former  speculators,  of  whom  we  have  already 
spoken,  and  shows  how  inadequate  these  were  to  ex- 
plain the  facts  of  the  case.  Fire— he  asks,  how^  can  it 
possibly  be  true  to  analyze  all  things  into  fire,  and  say 
that  they  were  formed  out  of  it?  "How,"  he  asks, 
"  can  things  be  so  various  if  they  were  formed  out  of 
fire,  one  and  unmixed?  It  would  avail  nothing  for  hot 
fire  to  be  condensed  and  rarefied.  The  heat  would 
only  become  more  intense  by  the  compression  of  parts, 


30 


L  UCRETIUS. 


f 


ri  riTr< 


^^rr^TTyrrf    QVcTTTir   fiT?    l.TTCT^KTIUS.     31 


30 


JLr  L  L  -» *  *  -*  JL  A  C  ^- » 


more  faiut  by  their  dispersion."  No  diversity  of  tliiags 
could  arise  in  this  way;  in  addition  to  whicli,  tires  can 
be  condensed  and  rarefied  only  if  there  be  void,  tlie 
existence  of  which  those  who  held  that  everything  was 
fire  necessarily  denied.  Indeed,  says  Lucretius,  it  needs 
but  little  exertion  of  thought  to  show  us  that,  if  we 
take  void  i"-  vy,  everything  must  become  soUd.  Sup- 
posing, hv..,<.L*r,  he  goes  on.  that  these  philosophers 
think  that  fire  geuer-^  -  various  bodies  in  some  other 
way,  not  bj  cond  •'  i  and  rarefaction.     This,  for 

other  reasons,  is  t-viua uy  iiupo^sible.      For  fire,  if  it 
ceases  altogether  to  be  fiery,  ceases  to  exist.     Fire,  ac- 
cording to  the  hypothesis  now  in  question,  is  the  essence 
of  all  matter— is  matter  in  its  simjilest  state.     To  say, 
then,  that  matter,  in  this  its  simplest  state,  is  robbed  of 
all  its  properties,  is  just   the  same  as  saying  that  it 
ceases  to  exist.     And  in  the  majority  of  things  about 
us  there  are  none  of  the  properties  of  fire.     If,  there- 
fore, fire  was  the  primal  element,  it  must  have  first 
been  turned  to  nothing;  and  out  of  that  nothing  all  these 
other  things  must  have  emerged.     *•  Again,"  Lucretius 
goes  on,  '-to  say  that  all  things  are  fire,  and  no  real 
thing  but  fire  exists,  appears  sheer  dotage.    For  those 
who  maintain  this  take  their  stand  on  the  senses  to  fight 
against  the  senses,  wliicli  appears  to  me  to  be  as  false  as 
it  is  foolish.     For  what  surer  test  can  we  have  than  the 
senses  of  truth  and  falsehood?  It  would  be  just  as  wise 
to  deny  the  reality  of  fire,  and   affirm  the  reality  of  all 
other  things." 

For  similar  reasons  they  are  wrong  who  take  for  a 
first  principle  water,  or  earth,  or  air;  or  air  and  fire; 
or  earth  and  water  together;  or,  as  did  Empedocles,' 
fire,  water,  earth  and  air.  These  speculators  were  all 
alike  wrong,  because  they  denied  the  existence  of  void, 


I 


J 


SCIENTIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LWHETIUS.    31 

and  because  they  supposed  matter  to  be  infinitely  divis- 
ible. . 

Again,  if  all  things  are  produced  from  four  thmgs, 
and  "again  broken  up  into  four  things,  there  is  no 
more  meaning  in  this  statement  than  there  would  be  in 
its  converse— viz.,  that  the  various  objects  and  sub- 
stances about  us  were  the  first  beginnings  of  these  ele- 
ments, not  these  elements  the  first  beginnings  of  them. 
Wliilst  if,  to  escape  this,  it  be  supposed  that  these  four 
elements  meet  in  such  a  way  that  none  of  them  in  the 
union  changes  its  nature,  nothing  whatever  will  be 
able  to  be  produced  out  of  them. 

The   first   beginnings   of  things  must  be  of  a  kind 
quite  different  from  these.     They  must  be  of   them- 
selves below  the  reach  of  sense;  their  nature  must  be 
unseen  and  latent,  and  thus  capable  of  infinite  conver- 
sion  and   change   by  means  of  various  combinations. 
Anaxagoras  made  a  step  in  the  right  direction;   but 
then  he  too  denied   the  existence  of  void,  and  he  too 
taught  matter  was  infinitely  divisible.     His  system  was 
therefore  as  radically  faulty  as  the  others.     The  sort  of 
approach  to  atomism  which  he  made  is  likewise  evi- 
dently unsuccessful,  and  will  not  explain  the  facts  of 
nature.     For,   according    to    Anaxagoras,  our  bodies 
ai-e  made  up  of  an  aggregate  of  flesh-particles,  blood- 
particles,  bone-particles,  and  so  on.     If  this  were  the 
case,  food  could  not  nourish  them,  unless  it  contained 
in  itself  small  bodies  of  blood,  bone,  and  flesh.     Then, 
too,  if  all  bodies  grow  out  of   the  earth,  or  are  nour- 
ished by  what  does  so,  earth  itself  must  be  an  aggregate 
of  all  these  bodies.     Wood,  when  ignited,  yields  smoke, 
flame,  and  ash.     On  the  hypothesis  of    Anaxagoras, 
therefore,  it  must  be  composed  of  particles  that  are 
foreign  to  itself.     Anaxagoras  felt  this  diflaculty,  and 


82 


LUCIi/nJCs. 


tried  to  escape  it  by  ^nyinir  that  all  things  to  some  extent 
are  latent  in  all  things,  and  that  eacli  thing  is  what  if 
is  in  virtue  of  those  pnitirle^  of  which  it  has  the 
largest  number.     But  llr  v.   Lucretius,   is  plainly 

not  the  case;  for  if  it  wuru  mj.  \V(>  should  get  blood  out 
of  stones,  milk  out  of  grass,  ami  tire  out  of  wood  with- 
out igniting  it.  People  say  that  the  rubbing  of  boughs 
in  a  forest  produces  fire;  and  this,  Lucretius  admits!  is 
quite  true.  But  that  is  not  because  fire,  ready  made, 
is  latent  in  the  wood,  but  because  the  arrangement  of 
atoms  is  changed,  and,  like  the  rearrangement  of  the 
letters  of  a  word,  produces  a  new  result. 

Atoms  and  void,  then— to  these  two  things  every- 
thing that  is.  is  reducilile.     These  are  the  substance  of 
everything,    the  only  things  that  really  exist.     What- 
ever can  be  named,  is  either  a  property  or  an  accident 
of  these  two  things.     The  properties  of  atoms  are  such 
thmgs  as  their  siiape  and  weight,  whicli  they  cannot 
lose  unless  they  lose  their  own  existence.     All  things 
else,  such  as  "  slavery,  poverty,  riches,  war,  concord/' 
—these  are  but  accidents,  one  and  all,  of  atoms  and  of 
void.     "Time,    also."  adds  Lucretius,  "exists  not  by 
itself;   but  simply  from  the  things  wliich  happen,  the 
sense  apprehends  what  has  been  done  in  time  past,  as 
well  as  what  is  present,  and  what  is  to  follow  after."' 

Further,  atoms  and  void  are  both  infinite  in  quantity 
because,  in  the  first  place,  it  is  inconceivable  that  they 
should  not  be  so;  and,  in  the  second  place,  unless  they 
were  so,  it  is  plnin  for  many  reasons  that  tliey  would 
not  liave  produced  the  results  tliey  have  done  The 
first  of  these  arguments  is  simple  enough.  Let  us 
make  the  bounds  of   thin  vast  as  we  will,  there 

nrust  still  be  something  or  other  outside  them.     The 
second  set  of  arguments  will  appear  presently. 


.Jma,tW»UiliaMai 


assss 


ISCIEMIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS.     33 


SECTION  U. 


THE  FORMATION  THE  UNIVERSE. 

The  original  state  of  thinus  was,  according  to  Lucre- 
tius, not  unlike  an  inlinilc  Miowstoi-m.  Infinite  atoms 
were  continually  falling  and  falling  through  an  infinite 
space.  They  fell  tlius  in  virtue  of  one  of  their  inalien- 
able properties,  namely  weight,  which  for  ever  bears 
them  downwards.  Though  of  different  >izes,  the  veloc- 
ity of  their  downward  motion  was  .-till  the  same,  for 
they  fell  through  an  unresisting  medium.  With  us 
heavy  things  fell  faster  than  very  light  ones,  simply 
because  of  the  resistance  of  the  air  which  they  have  to 
overcome.  The  universe  was  formed  by  the  collision 
and  coherence  of  these  f idling  bodies.  But  how  did 
this  collision  first  take  place?  All  the  bodies  Avere  fall- 
ing at  an  equ:d  velority,  and  so  ihey  cnuld  not  over- 
take each  other;  and  if  they  fell  straight  downwards— 
i.e.,  in  parallel  courses— they  could  not  jostle  against 
each  other.  Evidently,  therefore,  in  their  downward 
course,  says  Lucretius,  they  must  tend  at  uncertain 
times,  and  at  uncertain  points,  to  swerve  a  little,  but 
only  a  very  little— not  enough  to  be  called  a  lateral 
movement.  It  was  owing  to  this  slight  and  incal- 
culable swerving  that  the  first  collision  of  atoms  took 
place.  This  collision  at  once  jiroduced  a  rebound,  and 
this  rebound  again  produced  fresh  collisions;  and  there 
was  thus  begun  an  ever  extending  clashing  and  confu- 
sion amongst  them,  like  that  of  motes  in  sunbeams, 
which  we  may  see,  says  Lucretius,  "in  never-ending 
confiict,  skirmish  and  give  battle,  contending  in  troops, 
and  never  halting,  driven  about  in  frequent  meetings 
and  partings;  so  that  you  may  guess  from  this  what  it 


84 


Li'rllL^ 


is  for  first  beginnings  of  things  to  be  ever  tossing  aboin 
In  llie  great  void."  In  this  war  of  at.  lus,  some,  wlieu 
they  clashed,  bounded  oil  etich  other,  so  as  to  I^ave 
large  spares  lietweeo  them;  others  bounded  otT  >o  as 
only  to  le  mall  s[  -— the  ft»rmer  kind  producing 

such  things  as  air  and  bunligiit,  the  latter  such  things  as 
stooe  and  iron. 

This  different  behavior  of  the  different  atoms  is  due 
to  their  various  shapes.  sr«nie  being  round  and  smooth, 
some  round  and  rough,  some  forked  or  pointrd, — and 
so  on.  Tlie  denser  substances  are  formed  of  forked 
atoms,  which  cannot  touch  without  becoming  entan- 
gled witli  eacli  other,  and  are  so  unable  to  boimd  back 
to  any  great  distance.  The  rarer  and  more  siibtk-  sub- 
stances are  formed  of  smooth  and  tine  atoms. 

And  this  same  atomic  movement  wiiich  was  ilie  be- 
ginning of  things,  still  continues  to  keep  tliem  what 
they  are.  It  is  a  movement  that  has  gone  on  from 
everlasting,  and  will  alwavs  continue.  Eveiv  ol)ject 
about  us  is  in  motion  within  itself,  though  we  see 
it  as  a  wiiole  to  be  entirely  still ;  for  this  atomic 
movement  is  infinitely  far  beneath  the  ken  of  the 
senses.  We  may  conceive  its  nature,  however,  and 
its  possibility,  by  tlie  analogy  of  a  distant  flock  of 
sheep,  or  the  evolutions  of  tw^o  distant  armies.  The 
sheep,  though  in  reality  frisking,  and  buttiniT  each 
other,  seem  to  us  but  a  stationary  si^ot  of  wliit.  the 

two  armies,  though  engaged  in  combat,  ai)i)ear  to  us  but 
a  stationary  glitter.  The  tendency,  too.  of  ever\  tiling 
is  still  downwards,  ever  downwards;  and  tlie  upward 
tendency  of  certain  things  arises  only,  in  some  cases, 
from  a  rebound;  in  others,  as  in  the  case  of  tlame,  from 
the  substance  in  question  being  squeezed  upwards  by 
the  pressure  of  other  substances. 


.. 


SCIENTIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS.     35 

It  will  now  be  apparent  yet  further,  that  matter  and 
cnq)ty  space  must  both  be  infinite.  For  if  space  were 
not  iutinite,  the  atoms,  ahvays  falling,  would  be  by  this 
time  lying  in  a  solid  mass  on  the  floor  of  space;  and  if 
matter  were  not  infinite,  that  infinity  of  combinations 
could  not  have  been  produced,  of  which  the  existing 
order  of  things  is  a  survival  of  the  fittest. 

And  it  is  partly  from  thi,^  conclusion  that  Lucretius 
disproves  a  doctrine  that  was  current  amongst  some 
thinkers  in  his  time, — a  doctrine  which  nearly  ap- 
proaches the  modern  theory  of  gravitation,  and  was 
allied  also  with  a  conception  of  the  sphericity  of  the 
earth,  and  the  existence  of  life  all  round  it.  "  Some 
teach,"  Lucretius  says,  "that  all  things  press  to  the 
centre  of  the  sum;  that  heavy  bodies  under  the  earth 
press  ui)wards  and  are  at  rest  on  the  earth,  turned 
topsy-turvy,  like  the  images  of  things  in  water;  and 
that  living  things  walk  head  downwards,  and  cannot 
tumble  out  of  the  earth  into  those  parts  of  heaven 
below  them."  This  theory  of  things  he  thus  dismisses. 
The  universe  being  infinite,  there  can  be  no  centre  to  it. 
Secondly,  even  were  there  a  centre,  still  space  every- 
where would  yield  to  heavy  bodies,  and  they  could 
never  come  to  rest  upon  void,  be  that  void  centre  or  no 
centre. 

We  liave  already  seen  that  the  atoms  are  conceived  of 
as  having  different  shapes.  It  is  further  demonstrable, 
according  to  Lucretius,  that  the  number  of  their  shapes 
is  finite.  For  if  there  were  an  infinite  variety  of  shapes, 
some  atoms  would  have  to  be  of  an  infinite  bulk,  since 
linuled  bodies  do  not  afford  room  for  an  infinite  variety 
of  detail  in  their  form.  Also,  were  the  number  of  shapes 
of  atoms  infinite,  there  could  be  no  fixed  order  in  nature, 
but  it  w^ould  go  on  either  infinitely  improving  or  in- 


t  >   jiA    MhrifJtJkih  fcCf    ■J-f.mufcwuML'Mfc Jl..  j*-  . 


,<j^      tf„fa,aj|j^^  ,  ^  .>,>a>rtml»lu>.*«Jjl 


m 


LUCRETIUS. 


finitely  degenerating.  But  though  the  difference  of 
forms  is  fiiiite,  of  atoms  of  v:\ch  form  there  is  an  infinite 
number;  for  l!ie  sum  being  mfinite,  and  the  number  o! 
parts  finite,  there  must  be  an  infinite  variety  of  eacli 
kind,  else  the  sum  would  be  finite. 

Here  then  we  have  an  infinity  of  atoms  of  a  finite 
variety  of  shapes;  which,  though  they  are  thus  far 
qualilied,  and  are  possessed  also  of  gravity,  have  yet 
no  properties  individually  that  can  appeal  to  the  human 
^  Phev  have,  for  instance,  no  color;    and  this 

statement  Lucretius  takes  great  pains  to  verify.  Objects, 
he  says,  cliange  tlicir  color,  but  none  of  the  properties 
of  atoms  changes;  therefore  color  cannot  belong  to  the 
atoms.  Nor  can  such  colors  as  change  into  others  be 
the  product  of  a  number  of  atoms  of  various  colors. 
Look  at  blue  bright  sea- water,  li  and  you  will  see 

that  its  changes  of  color  are  evidently  not  such  as  could 
be  produced  l)y  any  mixture  of  variously-colored  par- 
ticles. Fin-tlKT— and  here  he  comes  to  a  deeper  kind  of 
reasoning— colore  cannot  exists  without  light,— nay, 
colors  change  with  the  way  in  which  liglit  falls  on 
them,  as  in  the  case  ot  the  down  on  a  dove's  neck.  lie 
then  goes  on  to  analyze  color  into  a  particular  kind  of 
blow  given  to  the  pupil  of  the  eye,  the  nature  of  which 
varied  with  the  shapes  of  the  atoms  that  composed  the 
colored  objects.  Thus  the  s.  n-e  of  color  is  but  a  par- 
ticular form  of  the  sense  of  touch,  and  i<  no  quality  in 
the  atoms  them  .  l»ut  is  an  accident  of  tlieir  shape. 

It  is  curious  hi  tind  that  Lucretius  having  given  this 
explanation,  in  wliicli  tliere  is  really  implied  a  profound 
truth,  supplements  it  by  the  shallow  and  untrue  obser- 
vation that  color  can  be  further  proved  notto  reside  in 
atoms,  because  the  more  yon  tear  up  a  thing  the  fainter 
does  the  color  appear.     At  any  rate,  having  thus  estab- 


■    -»li**    UrflTlU-     ^   *  t,  '  MWl<a«iM^M.>ttMhliWJfclMIB'*A«flrit  i!hi.^.flflJafj 


SCIENTIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS.    37 


lished  the  fact  that  atoms  have  no  color,  he  goes  on  more 
summarily  to  show  that  they  are  without  all  other  sen- 
sible qualities  as  well.  All  bodies  are  not  vocal,  all 
bodies  are  not  odorous,  all  bodies  do  not  possess  cold  or 
heat;  and  therefore  atoms  can  have  in  themselves 
neither  sound  nor  smell  nor  temperature.  It  is  only  by 
a  series  of  infinitely  complex  combinations  that  the  pri- 
mal materials  of  things  "  step  by  step  issue  forth  to  the 
senses." 

The  exact  stages  in  this  evolution  of  the  universe 
Lucretius  does  not  profess  to  describe  accurately,  but  he 
gives  a  general  sketch  of  them  which,  in  some  points,  is 
very  like  what  is  given  us  by  the  most  advanced  modern 
speculators.  It  was  a  long  time,  he  says,  before  the  war 
of  atoms  produced  anytliing  like  what  we  see  now.  As 
imagination  penetrates  back  to  the  first  conceivably 
visible  state  of  things,  it  discerns  nothing  but  a  "  strange 
and  stormy  medley" — the  cosmic  vapor  of  our  modern 
theorists — In  perpetual  mov^ement,  massing  itself  to- 
gether now  in  some  parts,  now  in  others,  and  leaving 
and  filling  up  various  shifting  interspaces.  At  last  "  the 
parts  began  to  fly  asunder,  and  like  to  join  like  and 
mark  off  the  members  of  the  world,  and  everyone  of  its 
mighty  parts — i.e.,  to  separate  high  heaven  from  earth, 
and  let  the  sea  spread  itself  out  apart,  and  also  let  the 
fires  of  the  ether  spread  apart,  pure  and  unmixed." 

This  process  began  as  soon  as  the  heavy  bodies  of 
earth  "first  met  together,  and  took  up  the  lowest  posi- 
tions." Having  thus  met  in  virtue  of  tlieir  special  shape 
they  w^ent  on  binding  themselves  together  in  a  closer 
union,  and  forming  a  denser  mass.  In  this  process  a 
large  (plant ity  of  smoother  particles  w^ere  squeezed  out 
of  the  earth,  and  these  formed  tlie  sea,  the  sun,  thestars, 
and  the  vault  of  heaven.     First  of  all  there  issued  out  a 


Z8 


LCCUETICS. 


fiery  ether,  which  went  up  as  we  see  mists  going  up  now. 
and  this  formed  itself  into  a  vast  colieriug  rilni,  which 
encompasses  and  bounds  our  univer^',  atui  which  we 
call  the  heavens.  xVfter  this,  .squeezed  out  in  like  man- 
ner from  the  solidifying  earth,  followed  the  nuiiments 
of  the  sun  and  moon,  wliieli  gradually  funned  them- 
selves into  their  itresent  sliapcs.  and  lurn  ruuiul  in  air. 
midway  between  earih  and  heaven.  bec:iu>e  ••  they  were 
neither  heavy  enough  to  ^ink.  nor  liirht  enough  lo  glide 
along  to  the  uppermost  borcKrs."  C'oui^ilieling  Lucre- 
tius's  notions  of  the  inherent  weight,  an.l  musequent 
downward  tendency,  of  all  atoms.  ihi>  at  lir.l  s-unds  a 
Utile  strange.  He  apparently  means,  liowtvcr,  lliai  ihry 
were  of  such  weight  that  the  stpieezing  i)w\ver  of  the 
earth  could  only  avail   to  project   them  to  a  certain 

height. 

When  the  material  of  the  h.  ^  and  llie  heavenly 

bodies  was  thus  withdrawn,  an  inunediate  change  took 

place  upon  the  earth'.-,  >arface,  which  was  at  this  time 

completely  covered  with  water.     In  consequence  of  the 

amount  of  matter  that  liad  gone  from  it,  there  was  in 

various  places  a  sudden  svd)sidence  of  the  ground.      In 

the  hollows  and  depressions  thus   formed,  the  waters 

were  at  once  collected,  and  the  dry  land  appeared.    Tlie 

same  sort  of  process  slill  continued.  l)iit  now  with  uu 

added  agency.     "Tlie  heal  of  ether,  and  the  rays  of  the 

sun.  ever  more  and  nu)re  b\  verieuied  blows  compressed 

and  buffeted   the  earth,      -  ler  parts  were  beaten 

down  into  phiins.  and  its  haiiler  jiarls.  which  couhl  not 

be  thus  beaten  down,  remained  a-  hills;   and  thus  the 

earth's  surface  assumed  its  present  form. 

'"tiUcretius.  it  will  thus  be  seen,  conceive  d  our  universe 
as  a  kind  of  azure  bubble,  ihrown  of!"  by  the  earth,  and 

headed  with  stars,  the  earth  itself  being  the  centre,  and 


;«!E5|S't:pB^^^^^^^^^  pi«!!S=!i'3'!E?' W^:' 


SCIENTIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS,    39 


occupying  probably  far  the  larger  part  of  the  space  en- 
closed by  it;  whilst  the  sun  and  moon  swam,  as  it  were, 
in  the  air,  which  tilled  all  the  intervening  space  between 
the  earth  and  heaven.  It  is  this  entire  system  which 
Lucretius  called  the  \\ox\d.  He  conceived  the  number 
of  such  worlds  to  be  infinite,  and  he  held  that  they  were 
all  falling  for  ever  downwards,  in  much  the  same  way 
as  the  atoms  did  in  the  beginning. 

The  knowledge  of  a  large  part  of  this  universe  he 
confesses  to  be  far  from  exact.  Of  the  movements  of 
the  heavenly  boibes,  especially,  he  can  only  give  con- 
jectural explanations;  but  one  or  other  of  those  he 
offers,  he  feels  certain  must  be  the  true  one— for  prac- 
tical purposes,  it  does  not  much  matter  which.  On 
one  point.  Ik. w ever,  he  professes  that  he  has  attained 
exactitude.  His  .<^(  ience  has  revealed  to  him  the  true 
size  of  the  lieavenly  bodies.  This,  he  says,  is  almost 
identical  with  that  which  it  appears  to  us  to  be.  This 
statement,  absurd  and  iudeed  unmeaning  as  it  is,  if  we 
were  to  consider  ii  seriously.  Lucretius  yet  arrived  at  by 
what  may  be  called  a  shadow  of  true  scientific  method. 
He  could  not  measure  the  size  of  the  heavenly  bodies 
directly,  but  there  were  other  bright  bodies  whose 
size  he  could  measure.  He  observed  a  variety  of 
fiames.  iiol icing  their  size  close  at  hand;  he  then 
retired  to  various  distances,  and  noted  them  from 
thence;  and  the  result  of  these  observations,  he 
fancied,  was.  that  however  far  he  retired  from  a  lumin- 
ous'object  its  size  never  seemed  to  diminish.  Thus, 
to  produce  the  etfect  they  do  upon  us,  the  actual  size 
of  the  sun  and  moon  need  be  no  greater  than  what  we 
see  it  to  be.  At  the  same  time,  however,  he  seems  to 
think  that  extreme  distance  may  have  some  very  small 
etfect  in  such  cases;  and  thus,  with  respect  to  the  size 


40 


irCRETIi's. 


of  the  stars,  our   vision    may   mislead   us  somewhat, 
'•  but  only  to  a  very  -ni;il!  dc-rt c" 

The  sun,  small  as  it  ^ive  the  light  and  heat 

it  does,  from  bein«r.  as  it  \v(>iv,  a  well-head,  AvheDce 
lidit  aud  heat  ffii^h  out:  or  llie  h»at  mav  not  dwell 
dh-ectly  in  itself,  hut  it  m;iy  inflame  the  air  when  in 
a  susceptible  state,  as  branches  make  a  conflagration; 
or  the  sun  may  liave  about  him  a  quantity  of  invisible 
heat,  unaccompanied  by  tire,  aud  this  heat  may  increase 
the  stroke  of  his  ray- 
Night  is  caused  either  by  the  sun.  "when  he  strikes 
the  uttermost  part  of  heaven."  having  "  blown  out  all 
his  tires,"  or  because  *'  the  same  force  w  hich  has  carried 
his  orb  above  the  earth,  compels  it  to  pass  below  the 
earth." 

Morning  is  caused  either  by  the  reappearance  of  the 
same  sun,  or  "because  tires  meet  together,  and  many 
seeds  of  heat  are  accustomed  to  stream  together  at  a 
fixed  time,  which  cause  new  sunlight  to  be  born  every 
day."  Strange  to  say,  he  seems  to  think  this  singular 
theory,  if  anything,  more  probable  than  the  former  one. 
He  gravely  says  that  •*  from  the  summits  of  Ida  it  is  re- 
ported that  scattered  tires  are  seen  to  appear  at  day- 
break, and  gradually  collect  them>elves  into  an  orb." 
And  if,  he  adds,  this  is  really  what  does  happen,  it  is 
only  in  strict  analogy  wit ii  many  of  the  most  familiar 
phenomena  of  nature.  Trees  blossom  at  tixed  times; 
rain  and  lightniug  are  not  very  irregular;  and  at  tixed 
times  boys  change  their  teeth. 

In  the  same  way,  a  new  moon  may  be  born  every- 
day, figured  according  to  its  various  phases.  Or  the 
moon  may  revolve  like  a  spherical  ball,  of  which  one 
half  is  self-luminous  and  one  half  dark.  Or  it  may  bo 
luminous  all  over,  either  of  itself  or  by  the  light  of  the 


SCIENTIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS.    41 

sun ;  and  its  phases  may  be  caused  by  its  carrying  with 
it  an  invisible  satellite  that  is  perpetually  eclipsing  it. 
The  eclipses  of  tiie  sun.  too,  may  be  accounted  for  in 
the  same  way;  or  "  the  sun  may  be  able,  quite  exhausted, 
to  lose  his  fires  at  certain  tixed  times." 

Such  in  broad  outline  is  the  Lucretian  universe — the 
outcome  of  atoms  that  have  in  themselves  no  sensible 
qualities.  Let  us  see  now,  more  in  detail,  how  Lucre- 
tius accounts  for  all  the  variety  of  substances  into  which 
we  find  they  have  combined  themselves. 

This  variety,   and  the  results  of  it.  are  due  to  the 

various  shapes  and  sizes  of  the  atoms,  and  their  various 

ways  of  mixing.     "There  is  nothing,"  says  Lucretius, 

"which  is  apparent  to  &in\^Q.  that  tonsists  of  one  kind 

of  first  beginnings.      Tliere   is  nothing  which  is   not 

formed  by  a  mixing  of  seed."     As  an  obvious  instance 

and  proof  of  this,  we  have  the  earth,  which  must  con* 

tain  within  itself  the  seeds  of  all  the  things  that  spring 

out  of  it,  such  as.  water,  fire,  and  vegetation.     For  each 

thing  is  what  it  is  in  virtue  of  being  a  combination,  a 

mixture,  a  clinging  together  of  atoms  of  certain  various 

shapes,    in   certain    various    proportions.     It    is    these 

various  combinations  of  various  atoms  that  give  to  things 

their  different  textures  and  properties;  for  "  since  seeds 

differ,  there  must  be  a  difference  in  the  spaces  between 

the  passages,  the  connections,  the  weights,  the  blows." 

This  hypothesis,  says  Lucretius,  will  explain  all  the 

facts  of  nature,  and  will  be  verified  by  them.     Light, 

for  instance,  passes  through  horn ;  but  rain  is  thrown 

off.     Why?    The  atoms  comprising  horn  leave  in  that 

substance  spaces  of  a  certain  size  and  shape.     The  atoms 

that  compose  light  are  very  small,  and  can  pass  through 

these  spaces.     The  atoms  that  compose  water  are  larger, 

and  cannot.    Again,  wines  flow  through  a  strainer,  l)ut 


i^imi  "MiLiaa 


aaag' 


iWlWh 


I 


snTTTXTTrrr,  sVsTF:u  OF   LUCRETIUS,    4S 


42' 


lUiUt^TIUS. 


oil  will  not.  This  is  because  the  elements  of  oil  are 
larger,  or  more  hooked  and  tangled,  and  m-  canuut  he 
80  easily  separated.  To  put  the  matter  generally,  hard 
substances,  such  as  diamonds  and  iron,  are  composed 
mainly  of  atoms  that  have  many  hooks,  by  which,  the 
iustaut  they  touch  each  other,  ihcy  are  held  together; 
fluid  substances,  such  as  water,  aie  composed  mainly  of 
atoms  without  hooks,  wliieh  can  nu-Vf  \vith  more  or 
less  freedom  about  each  other;  and  ga>eous  substances 
are  composed  entirely  of  at  :"  a  tiuer  and  smaller 

nature  still. 

The  various  ta  mells,  sound-,  and  temperatures 

of  things  are   due,    loo,    to   the  .-hapcs  of    the 

atoms  that  compose  tliem.  llur>h  ia>Les  come  from 
substances  made  up  of  rough,  pointed,  or  hooked  att)ni>, 
pleasant  tastes,  from  substance-  u  tde  up  of  smoolii 
atoms.  The  atoms  of  honey  and  nulk,  for  instance,  are 
smooth;  those  of  wormwood  rough.  The  creaking  of 
a  saw  is  made  of  rough  atoms;  beautiful  music  of  >maU 
atoms;  and  so  on. 

More  light  will  be  thrown   on    i;  neeption   of 

things,  when  we  come  t  further  wiiai  is  lAicretiu>"a 

theory  of  sensation,  and  iiow  he  reduces  all  our  percep 
lions  to  modes  of  touch.     In  tlie  foregoing  analysis  of 
of  matter,  the  incousisi  -  and  incoinplclent  ->  .ue  i.f 

course  obvious.  It  will  be  enough,  in  passing,  to  men- 
lion  the  two  most  striking  of  ihese.  One  is,  that 
though  it  is  one  of  his  great  points  that  the  af<<nis  arc 
far  below  the  reach  of  siii-e.  lie  >e*Mi>  continually  to 
speak  of  them  as  though   they  could  individually  by 

by  their  shape  affect,  or  be  detected,  by  the  senses.    The 

other  is,  that  this  application  of  the  atomic  theory  quite 
fails  to  explain  one  of  the  chief  phenomena  of  iKiture — 
that  is,  the  change  of  qualities  that  takes  place  iu  a 


ij.1..-^.  -^jbii^%-i   jih>fhjft.h< 


SCIENTIFIC'  srsTE.U  OF   LUCRETIUS.    43 

single  substance,  hot  things  becoming  cold,  sweet  things 
ranciil.  and  gaseous  and  fluid  things  solid.  This,  how- 
ever, by  the  way.  What  we  have  now  to  do  is  to 
examine  tiie  theory  of  Lucretius,  not  to  criticise  it 

SECTION  III. 

THE   INTERACTION  OF  MATERIAL  StJBSTANCES. 

We  have  thus  far  seen  liow  the  universe  as  it  is,  was 
evolved  out  of  its  original  elements,  and  the  few  simple 
laws  of  which  this  evohitiou  was  the  result.  We  have 
next  to  consider  the  more  complex  question  of  how  it 
is  maintained  in  \\<  present  state,  with  all  its  varioui 
movements  ami  innuniendjle  changes,  and  the  constant 
uriforni  relation  of  its  larger  parts. 

We  have  seen  how  atoms  behaved  in  forming  sub* 
stances;  we  must  now  see  why  substances  behave  as 
they  do  when  formed.  Lucretius  explains  this  by  a 
doctrine  we  have  already  mentioned,— that  nothing, 
however  much  appearances  may  say  the  contrary  to  us, 
is  really  at  r.>t.  We  are  to  conceive  of  everything  in 
constant  motion— solids,  fluids,  and  gases,— in  motion 
within  themselves,  even  when  they  are  at  rest  relatively 
to  other  objects.  It  is  in  this  way  that  the  heavens  are 
sustained  above  us  from  falling  on  the  earth,  and  the 
earth  sustained  from  falling  on  the  heavens  below;  for 
the  entire  space  between  the  two  is  pervaded  by  air  in 
ceaseless  motion,  the  particles  of  which  are  perpetually- 
bounding  and  rebounding,  striking  against  the  earth  on 
the  one  hand  and  the  heavens  on  the  other,  and  thus 
keeping  the  whole  in  place. 

It  might,  Lucretius  seems  to  think,  appear  doubtful 
how.  according  to  his  theory  of  the  downward  tendency 
of  everything,  air  could  sustain  the  earth.    He  thereforo 


44 


LVRj-rrirs. 


takes  pains  to  empliM-i/c  <;speci:t]ly  tlie  \)o\\iv  that  is  in 
air,  fine  though  its  atoms  be.  Life,  which,  as  we  shall 
see  soon,  he  eon-iii'i's  to  l)e  atomic,  can  hold  the  body 
together,  he  s:ivs;  und  the  living  body  does  uot  feel  the 
weight  of  its  separate  members.  Our  feet,  for  instance, 
are  conscious  of  no  pressure  from  above,  in  the  same 
way  air  prevents  the  earth  from  having  any  weight  with 
reference  to  the  universe. 

But  we  must  not  only  conceive  of  all  bodies  as  having 
within  themselves  tlii^  nrnMctual  motion  of  their  parti- 
cles; we  must  al^  .  <.    ;.vi all  sulistanees  as  being,  as 

it  w^ere,  In  a  perpetual  state  of  evaporation.  Minute 
particles  of  ther^^'^elves  are  for  ever  streaming  otT  tli-ir 
surface.     That  this  is  .su.  wc  r;in  tell  in  many  i-  y 

practical  ex|>eriments;  and  we  may  thus  infer  that  it 
is  so  in  every  case.  We  can  tell  that  water  is  per- 
petually giving  off  a  certain  i)art  of  its  own  elements, 
by  ob-erving  how  clothes,  stretched  out  to  dry  on  the 
sea-shore,  get  saturated  with  a  salt  moisture.  As  we 
walk  by  the  sea,  loo,  a  salt  taste  comes  into  our  mouths. 
Scents,  likewise,  are  instances  of  the  s:une  perpetual 
Btreamiug  off  of  atoms;  and  so  also  is  color,  as  we  may 
Bee  plainly  where  the  sun  shines  through  red  or  blue 
canvas,  and  show^s  us  those  colors  projected  on  what- 
ever objects  the  light  falls  on. 

Thus  there  is  throughout  nature  a  variety  of  wholly 
un perceived  agencies  at  work,  secretly  affecting  what- 
ever we  can  observe  to  happen,  and,  as  we  shall  see 
presently,  enabling  us  to  observe  and  be  conscious  of 
it.  An  illustration  of  what  Lucretius  means  by  this 
doctrine,  and  of  the  use  he  made  of  it  in  explaining 
nature,  is  to  be  found  in  his  account  of  tlie  magnet, 
wdiich  he  says  attracts  iron  for  this  reason.  From  lln^ 
magnet  there  proceeds  perpetually  a  stream  of  atoms 


'    i  • 


SCIENTIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS.    45 

stronger  and  more  violent  than  from  most  other 
bodies.  This  stream  is  perpetually  creatmg  a  vacuum 
about  the  magnet.  As  soon  as  iron  is  placed  in  the 
neighborhood  of  this  vacuum,  the  air  which  is  in 
the  pores  of  the  iron  tries  to  rush  to  the  vacuum, 
and  fill  it  up.  The  iron,  however,  is  of  so  tough  and  ~ 
liard  a  nature,  that  tlie  air  cannot  escape  from  it,  and 
therefore  carries  the  iron  into  the  vacuum  along  with 
it.  The  magnet  does  not  attract  gold,  because  gold  is 
too  heavy  for  the  air  to  move  it;  nor  again  does  it 
attract  wood,  because  wood  is  so  porous  that  the  air  rush- 
ing to  the  vacuum  can  escape  of  itself,  without  taking 

the  wood  with  it. 

Thus  the  whole  universe  is  what  it  is,  in  virtue  of 
this  occult  movement  of  everything.  All  matter  is 
more  or  less  porous,  and  every  substance  is  ever  being 
permeated  and  filtered  through  by  emanations  from 
other  substances.  "One  thing,"  says  Lucretms,  "is 
seen  to  stream  through  stones,  another  through  gold, 
another  still  to  go  out  through  silver  and  brass.  Form 
is  seen  to  stream  through  this  passage,  heat  through 
that;  and  one  thiui?  is  seen  to  pass  through  by  the  same 
way' more  quickly  than  other  things.  The  nature  of 
the  passages  compels  it  to  be  so.  varying  in  manifold 
wise,   owing  to  the  unlike    natures    and  textures  of 


things." 


SECTION  IV. 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  LIFE  AND  SPECIES. 

Nature,  as  we  have  considered  it  thus  far,  has  been 
simply  inorganic  unconscious  nature.  We  must  now 
see  the  relation  that  life  bears  to  this.  Life  and  con- 
sciousness, accordmg  to  Lucretius,  are  the  products  of 
a  certain  combination  of  substances,  interacting  on  each 


LUCRETIUS. 


other  by  a  certain  infinitely  complex  process  of  atomic 
movement.  "  Whatever  things  we  perceive  to  have 
sense,"  he  says,  "  y<Hi  must  admit  to  be  all  composed  of 
senseless  first  beginnings."  This  fact  he  seems  to  con- 
sider evident  on  the  very  face  of  things.  We  can  see 
instances  of  it  daily  before  our  eyes.  "Living  worms 
spring  out  of  dung.  Rivers,  leaves,  and  glad  pastures 
change  into  cattle,  cattle  change  their  substance  into 
our  bodies,  and  often  our  bodies  are  converted  into  the 
energy  of  wild  beasts  and  vultures.  Therefore,  by  a 
process  similar  to  that  by  which  dry  woods  are  dis- 
solved into  tlames.  does  nature  change  all  foods  into 
living  bodies,  and  engender  out  of  them  all  the  senses 
of  living  creatures." 

But  this  change  of  inorganic  into  organic  substances 
does  not  take  place  suddenly.  It  has  to  be  brought 
about  through  a  number  of  advancing  stages,  and  it  is 
only  certain  sutistances  that  are  capable  of  this  change. 
And  yet  Lucretius  seems  to  think,  on  the  whole,  that 
under  favorable  circumstances  almost  everything  might 
develop  the  qualities  of  protoplasm.  These  qualities 
depend  on  the  minuteness  and  the  shape  of  the  atoms. 
and  also  on  their  motions,  their  arrangements,  and  thei^ 
position-.  Xone  of  which  re(|uisites,"  he  says,  "we 
find  in  woods  and  clods,  and  yet  even  these  things, 
when  they  have  become  rotten  with  rain,  bring  forth 
worms,  because  b( MJies  of  matter  driven  from  their  an- 
cient arrangements  by  a  new  condition  are  coml)ined  in 
the  same  way  as  when  living  creatures  are  to  be  be- 
gotten." Further,  if  this  observation  of  the  facts  of  na- 
ture be  not  sufficient  to  convince  us  that  life  is  evolved 
out  of  things  that  are  not  living,  the  following  argument 
will  put  the  matter  beyond  a  tloubt.  If  the  atoms  that 
compose  conscious  bodie^  were  themselves  conscious, 


''==-'■— ""^-"EB 


48 


L  rCRETIUS. 


SCIENTIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS.    47 

then  the  atoms  that  men  are  made  of  would  have  the 
qualities  of  men,  and  would,  amongst  their  other  capa- 
bililies.  be  able  to  laugh,  and  to  prosecute  scientific  m- 
quiiies,  which  is  manifestly  absurd.  It  is  therefore 
perfectly  evident,  even  in  starting,  that  life  is  merely  a 
mode  of  matter;  and  when  we  come  to  consider  the 
nature  of  life  more  in  detail,  it  will  be  more  apparent 

still.  ,  ^, 

Such,  then,  being  the  nature  of  life,  what  was  the 
history  of  its  gradual  appearance  upon  the  earth?    The 
answer  of  Lucretius  to  this  is  curious  in  two  ways— in 
its  anticipation  of  the  most  modern  views,  and  in  the 
unconscious  survival  in  it  of  the  most  ancient.     Lucre- 
tius in  this  connection  seems  to  conceive  of  the  earth 
in  something  the  same  way  as  Thales  did-as  a  large 
animal.     No  sooner,  says  he,  had  the  earth  assumed  its 
present  shape,  with  its  seas  and  lands,  its  level  plains 
and  its  mountains,  than  there  began  to  grow  out  of  its 
surface  herbage,  flowers,  and  trees,  in  the  same  way  as 
feathers  and  bristles  grow  out  of  tlie  skins  of  birds  and 
beasts.     Then-though  why  the  events  followed  each 
other  in  this  order  is  not  explained-the  earth  put  forth 
substances  which  developed  into  living  beings.     First 
came  eggs,  which,  lying  in  various  places  all  over  the 
ground,  were  hatched  by  the  growing  warmth  of  spring. 
Then   under  the  joint  action  of  heat  and  moisture,  the 
earth  developed  wombs,  which  lay  on  its  surface,  as 
the  eg-s  did.  and  were  attached  to  the  soil  by  roots 
Within  these-how   is  not  stated-infants  developed 
themselves;  "and  when,"  says  Lucuetius,  "the  warmth 
of  these  infants,  flying  the  wet  and  craving  the  air.  had 
opened  them  in  the  fulness  of  time,  nature  would  turn 
to  that  spot  the  pores  of  the  earth,  and  constrain  it  to 
yield  from  its  open  veins  a  liquid  most  like  to  milk. 


SCIENTIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS.    49 


48 


X  rCRETIUS. 


Such  were  tlie  first  begiiiuiiigs  of  animal  life.  All 
kinds  of  creatures,  without  any  act  of  sexual  genera- 
tion, sprang  direct  from  the  earth;  and  so.  indeed,  says 
Lucretius,  they  still  continue  to  do,  but  not  in  such 
numbers  as  formerly.  For  the  earth  grows  old  as  a 
woman  does;  and,  like  a  woman's,  her  bearing  powers 
get  gradually  worn  out.  Once  the  cartli  of  herself  pro- 
duced "(he  liuge  bodies  of  wild  beasts."  complete  and 
ready  made.  Xow,  of  herself,  she  can  only  bring  forth 
such  little  creatii  worms  and  the  like. 

Once,  too,  of  herself,  she  brought  forth  corn-crops, 
and  vines,  and  fruit-trees,  which  we  can  uuw  only  get 
by  sowing  the  ground  and  tilling  it;  and  as  far  as  the 
earth's  productions  go,  things  get  worse  and  worse 
every  year,  and  to  wring  the  same  results  out  of  her  tq- 
quire  ar  more  toilsome  hdjor. 

To  return  to  the  question  of  animal  life:  the  earth  in 
her  prime,  in  her  early  period  of  exuberant  fecundity, 
gave  bhth  at  random  to  every  conceivable  kind  of  crea- 
ture, perfect  and  imi)erfect.     Some  were  blind,  some 
Wire  dumb, some  were  mere  trunks  without  limbs,  some 
were  sexless.     A  large  number  of  tliese.  for  a  variety  of 
i«asons    could   not  propagate  tliemselves.     Single  or 
few^  specimens  were  lu-oduced,  and  forthwith  pedshed. 
Amongst  those  tbai  ucie  able  to  propagate  themselves, 
a  struggle  fer  existence  set  in  as  they  increased  and 
mullii>lied;  and  in  this  struggle   tho.se   animals  were 
eliminated  tliat   were   not   able  to  defend  themselves. 
"For."  says  Lucretius,  "in  the  .  .f  all  things  which 

go  on  breathing  the  breath  of  life,  either  craft  or 
courage,  or  else  speed,  has  from  the  beginning  of  its 
existence  protected  and  preserved  each  particular 
race."^  The  only  exception  is  in  the  case  of  domes- 
tic animals,  which,  though  thev  may  iu  some  wavs  be 


SCIENTIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS.    49 


weakly  themselves,  have  survived  through  man's  pro- 
tection. 

This  theory  of  the  origin  of  species,  it  will  be  seen, 
is  in  one  of  its  main  features  identical  with  the  Dar- 
winian.    It  attributes  exactly  the  same  results  to  the 
struggle  for  existence.     But  in  another  point  it  is  en- 
tirely and  expressly  opposed  to  it.     According  to  the 
Darwinian  theory,  ail   life   began   in   a  single  simple 
form,   which  slowly  differentiated   itself,  through  an 
unexplained  tendency  of  each  organism,  not  only  to 
reproduce  its  own  likeless  in  its  offspring,  but  also  to 
reproduce  this  likeness  with  slight  incalculable  varia- 
tions.    In  this  way  varieties  of  organisms  kept  increas- 
ing, all  having  sprung  from  the  same  parent  stem,  and 
spreading  out  into   separate   branches,  which  would, 
if  left  to  themselves,  be  for  ever  branching  out  anew\ 
The  rigors  of  climate,  the  difficulty  of  obtaining  food, 
and  so  on,  acted  like  a  force  that  stripped  from  such 
a  tree  all  its  weakly   twigs,    and   broke   its   unsound 
branches,  leaving  those  only  growing  that  were  strong 
enough  to  withstand  it.     Iu  various  places  this  force 
Taried,   and  various  textures   and   forms  of  branches 
were  thus  in  various  places  left  growing,  and  destroyed 
by  it.     The  innate  tendency  to  variation  in  animals, 
which  the  Darwinian  theory  thus  postulates,  was  con- 
ceived of  dimly  by  some  of  the  earliest  Greek  pliiloso- 
phers,  who  held  that  animals  only  developed  legs,  and 
various  other  parts  of  their  bodies,  wdien  the  waters 
dried  up  that  originally  covered  the  earth,  and  they 
were  thus  forced  to  adapt  themselves  to  a  life  of  land. 
But  all  tendency  to  variation  in  species  is  wiiat  Lucre- 
tius  expressly  denies.     "All  living  things,"  he  says, 
'go  on  after  their  own  fashion,  and  all  preserve  their 
distinctive  differences  according  to  a  fixed  law  of  na- 


50 


LUC  HE  TICS. 


lure."'  It  will  thus  be  seen  th:it  the  Darwinian  theory 
is  an  advanee  on,  and  dilTtTS  from,  Hk'  Luereiian  mainly 
and  essentially  in  thi  •  ■  '  iu  which  the  variety  i^ 
produced  which  is  the  ..ut.j.  ci  of  the  selecting  process 
common  to  both  systems. 


SECTION  V. 

THB  KATURE  OF  LIFE  AND  <0: 


-NESS. 


The  vital  principle,  though  not  identical  wiih  the  body, 
is  demonstrably  itself  as  truly  materitd  :\>  i\u  '  '  •  Tlie 
close  connection  of  the  tw..  is  a  pro..}'  ol  un^..  For 
the  mind  moves  tlie  limb>,  rousc^s  the  body  friun  slee].. 
and  alters  the  countenance.  I'he  mind,  loo.  >utTer> 
with  the  1)0(1  V.     A  wound  will  often  <  h»<^  of  ro!i 

sciousuess,  for  instance;  and  that  thi:i.^  mu-l  be  ma- 
terial which  is  thus  allected  by  material  ]>\o\\<.  The 
vital  principle,  aecordiiig  to  Lucretius,  con^i-ts  of  two 
kinds  of  ether  of  surpassing  subtlety,  diffused  through 
the  entire  body,  and  closely  connecied  with  each  other. 
Considering  how  quick  are  all  our  thoughts  and  im- 
pulses, the  atoms  of  which  these  ethers  ai  uposed 
must  be  perfectly  spl  1  and  smooth,  and  exceedingly 

small.  The  entire  volume  of  it  must  also  weigh  very 
little,  as  after  life  has  left  the  body,  the  body  does  not 
perceptibly  weigh  less,  any  more  than  wine  does  when 
it  has  lost  its  flavor  or  its  bouquet. 

We  are  not,  however,  to  suppose  that  the  nature  of 
this  ether  is  single,  says  Lucretius.  It  cati.  en  the  con- 
trary, be  readily  analyzed  into  four  parts.  "  For"— 
80  his  words  run— "a  certain  subtle  spirit  mixed  with 

heat  quits  men  at  death,  and  then  the  spirit  d. aws  air 

along  with  it,— there  being  no  heat  which  has  not  air 
too  mixed  with  it;  for  since  the  nature  of  heat  is  rare, 


• 


SCIKM'IFIC  SYsri-M  OF  LUCllETrVS.     51 

many  fir>t  beLiitmimis  of  air  must  move  about  through 
it."  Tiiu>  the  nature  of  the  vital  principle  is  found  to 
betlneefold  {ij\,  there  is  the  certain  "subtle  spirit," 
beat,  and  air).  And  yet  these  things  altogether  are  not 
sufficient  to  produce  sense,  since  the  fact  of  the  case 
does  not  admit  that  any  of  tlie.^e  can  produce  sense- 
giving  motions,  and  the  thoughts  which  a  man  turns 
over  in  his  mind.  Thus  some  fourth  nature  must  be 
added  to  these.  This  is  altogether  without  a  name. 
There  is  nothing  exists  more  nimble  or  more  hne,  or 
of  smaller  or  smoother  elements.  It  first  transmits  the 
sense-giving  motions  through  the  frame,— for  it  is  first 
stirred,  made  ui>  as  it  is  of  small  particles.  Next,  the 
heat,  and  the  unseen  force  of  the  spirit,  receive  the  mo- 
tions; then  the  air;  then  all  things  are  set  in  motion,  the 
blood  is  stirred,  and  every  part  of  the  flesh  is  filled  with 
sensation. 

The  mutual  connection  of  these  four  elements  of 
the  vital  principle,  Lucretius  admits  that  it  is  very 
hard  to  explain.  All  he  says  he  can  do  is  to  illustrate 
it  bv  an  amdnuv.  "As  in  the  flesh  of  any  living 
creature  there  is  a  smell  and  a  heat  and  a  savor,  and 
yet  out  of  these  there  is  made  up  one  single  bulk  of 
hotly,  so  the  heat  and  the  air,  and  the  unseen  forces  of 
the  spirit,  mixed  together,  produce  a  single  nature,  to- 
gether with  that  nimble  force,  which  transmits  to  them 
from  itself  the  origin  of  motion,  by  means  of  which 
sense-giving  motion  first  takes  its  rise  through  the  fleshy 
frame." 

The  effects  of  these  various  elements  are  perpetually 
being  visible  in  the  actions  and  the  characters  of  living 
thinirs.  An  anurv  fire  flashes  from  the  eyes  in  virtue 
of  the  elements  of  lieat.  Fear  is  due  to  the  operation 
of  a  spirit,  which  is  of  a  low  temperature.     A  calm 


50 


LUCRETIUS. 


cheerfuluess  is  due  to  a  prepouderance  of  the  element 
of  still  air.  Thus  luissionate  auimals,  such  as  lions, 
have  in  them  moi'e  of  the  lieat  principle.  Shuddering, 
fearful  animals,  like  >!ag>.  have  more  of  the  chilly 
principle.  Oxen  luive  ui.^rt'  of  still  air.  Men  have  all 
these  element*  more  equally  mixed  in  them.  It  is  true 
that  thev  inherit  various  tendencies  which  tliey  can- 
not  utterly  eradicate;  hut  the  bent  giveu  us  by  our 
parents  is  so  small,  that  practically  we  may  overcome 
it. 

Such  is  the  vital  principle,  and  though  dwelling  in 
the  body  and  permeating  the  body,  it  is  not,  says  Lu- 
cretius, as  some  contend,  a  mere  liarmonious  working 
together  of  the  body.  For  the  body  is  often  sick, 
whilst  the  mind  is  enjoying  pleasure:  often  tlie  reverse 
IS  the  case.  Then,  too.  whilst  the  body  is  lyiug  sense- 
less in  sleep,  our  mind  is  often  awake,  and  is  feeling 
joy  and  sorrow.  Further,  life  still  stays  in  the  body 
when  many  limb^  have  been  lopped  off;  "  and  yet  the 
same  life,  when  a  few  bodies  cf  heal  have  been  dis- 
persed al)r(>ad,  and  some  air  has  been  forced  out  through 
the  mouth.  al)andons  at  once  the  veins,  and  quits  tlie 
bones.     And  thus  we  hat  all  bodies  do  not  alike 

uphold  existence,  but  rather  that  those  seeds  which 
constitute  wind  and  heat  cause  life  to  stay  in  the 
limbs." 

This  vital  ether,  whicli  has  been  analyzed  into  four 
constitueikt  elements,  from  another  point  of  view  di- 
vides Itself  into  two — viz.,  the  Mind  and  Soul,  which, 
however,  do  but  "  nudie  up  a  single  nature."  The 
mind  is  the  directing  principle,  and  has  its  seat  in  the 
heart.  "  All  the  rest  of  the  soul  disseminated  through- 
out the  body  obeys  and  moves  at  the  beck  and  muve- 
meut  of  the  mind." 


SCIENTIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS. 


53 


'•The  mind  has  more  to  do  with  holding  the  fast- 
nesses  of  life,  and  has  more  sovereign  sway  over  it, 
than  the  power  of  the  soul.  For  without  the  under- 
standing and  the  mind,  no  part  of  the  soul  can  main- 
tain itself  in  the  frame  for  the  smallest  fraction  of  time. 
The  mind  alone,  itself,  knows  for  itself,  and  rejoices 
for  ilself,  at  times  when  ,he  impression  does  not  move 
cither  the  soul  or  the  body  together  with  it.  But  when 
the  mind  is  excited  by  some  vehement  apprehension, 
we  see  the  whole  soul  feel  in  unison  through  the  limbs; 
the  eheeks  turn  pale,  the  skin  sweats,  and  often  the 
whole  body  faints  away." 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  Lucretius,  though  he  does 
not  seem  to  have  elaborated  his  entire  conception  of 
the  matter  into  perfect  clearness,  conceives  of  the  vital 
principle  as  a  kind  of  ether,  pervading  the  body,  with 
a  nucleus  of  a  special  and  peculiar  sensitiveness,  which 
had  its  special  seat  in  the  breast.  This  nucleus  was 
extremely  sensitive  to  any  appulse  from  without;  it 
was  capable  also  of  spontaneous  movement.  Its  move- 
ments, when  not  violent,  it  could  conline  to  itself;  but 
if  they  passed  a  certain  limit,  they  at  once  communi- 
cated 'themselves  to  the  rest  of  the  ether,  and  this  in 
its  turn  affected  the  parts  of  the  body  through  which 
it  was  diffused.  We  shall,  however,  understand  the 
matter  better  when  we  have  examined  more  in  detail 
the  way  in  which  Lucretius  conceives  the  outer  world 
to  reach  this  ether,  and  produce  in  it  the  sensation  of 
consciousness. 

SECTION    VI. 

LrCRETlUS's  THEORY  OF  VISION. 

We  have  seen  clearly  that  Lucretius  reduces  all  the 
senses  to  modes  of  toucli.     Taste,   smell,   and  sound 


54 


L  UCRETIUS. 


are  touches  more  or  less  violent  of  particles  of  matter, 
driven  in  various  ways  against  our  bodies,  and  pene- 
trating in  various  places  into  them.  We  have  seen  also 
in  what  a  perpetual  war  and  turmoil  he  conceives  all 
material  things  to  be;  so  that  it  is  impossible  for  us  to 
move  anywhere,  or  in  any  direction,  without  walking. 
as  it  were,  through  a  cloud  of  dust,  that  beats  perpet- 
ually on  us  from  every  side.  Sounds,  smells,  and  tastes 
are  therefore  ever  beating  on  us.  and  finding  their  way 
into  us,  each  at  its  appointed  door. 

This  is  easy  enough  to  comprehend.    That  vision  is 
produced  in  an  exactly  similar  way,  may  not  at  first  be 
comprehended  quite  so  easily.     Such,  however,  is  the 
theory  of  Lucretius.     Just  as  smells  stream  ofif  some 
bodies,  and  tastes  off  others,  or  as  from  some  smells 
and    tastes   stream    off    together,   so  from  all  bodies 
alike  there  is  yet  another  kind  of  emanation  that  is  per- 
petually proceeding.    Nothing  visible  exists  that  is  not 
perpetually  shedding  off  from  its  surface  a  picture  or 
image  of  itself.     Such  pictures  "  are  like  films,  and  may 
each  be  named  a  rind."     These  films  are  perpetually 
being  shot  forward,  in  every  direction,  following  one 
after  another  with  extraordinary  rapidity,  each  film  being 
a  complete  picture  in  itself,  and  inflicting  a  separate 
blow  on  any  object  in  its  way.     They  are  of  extreme 
thinness  and  fineness  of  texture,  and  as  soon  as  ever  they 
touch  any  rough  substance,  such  as  stone  or  wood,  they 
are  instantly  dashed  to  pieces.     This  is  the  reason  why 
such  substances  are  opaque.    There  are  other  substances, 
such  as  glass,  whose  vacant  spaces  are  of  such  a  shape 
that  the  films  can  pass  unbroken  through  them;  and 
this  is  the  reason  why  such  substances  are  transparent. 
There  are,  again,  other  substances  at  once  very  smooth 
and  very  hard,  such  as  mirrors,  through  which  the  filmg 


SCIEMIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS.     55 


cannot  pass,  and  which  yet  cannot  break  them  up  and 
destroy  tliem.  By  a  sort  of  a  rebound,  therefore,  they 
are  sent  back  again.  This  is  the  explanation  of  the 
phenomenon  of  reflection. 

As  to  the  laws  by  which  these  films  move,  there  seems 
to  have  been  some  confusion  in  the  mind  of  Lucretius. 
The  obvious  fact  that  we  cannot  see  round  corners, 
must  have  led  him  to  conceive  of  their  general  move- 
ment being  only  m  a  straight  line;  and  he  had  studied 
the  matter  with  sufficient  accuracy  to  show  him  that 
"nature,"  as  he  expresses  it,  "constrains  all  things, 
when  they  are  carried  back  and  recoil  from  things,  to 
be  given  back  at  angles  equal  to  that  at  which  they 
impinged."    But,  in  spite  of  this,  he  imagines  there  are 
certain  films  that  wander  about  in  tortuous  courses,  ap- 
liarently  under  the  control  of  no  law,  straying  far  away 
from  the  objects  from  which  they  originally  proceeded; 
and  other  films,  he  imagines,  which  have  no  correspond- 
ing objects  at  all,  and  which  have  not  emanated  from 
the  surface  of  anything. 

The  movement  of  all  these  films  is  extremely  rapid, 
as  one  may  prove  in  a  moment  by  observing  how,  "  as 
soon  as  the  brightness  of  water  is  set  down  in  the  open 
air,  if  the  heaven  is  starry,  in  a  moment  the  clear  radiant 
constellations  of  ether  imaged  in  the  water  correspond 
to  those  in  heaven."  It  is  the  breaking  of  these  films 
against  the  eye  that  produce  vision.  They  are  driven 
against  it  one  after  another,  packed  together  as  though 
they  were  the  pages  of  a  picture-book.  Did  they  merely 
come  one  at  a  time,  they  are  so  fine  that  no  one  could 
see  them;  but  when  '*  thrown  off  constantly  and  repeat- 
edly, they  yield  a  visible  image." 

As  to  the  structure  of  the  eye,  and  the  way  these 
films  are  received  by  it,  Lucretius  says  nothing.    He 


56 


LrcRi:Tirs. 


treats  the  eye  as  he  treats  the  palate.  The  two  organs 
each  suflicienlly  explain  and  illustrate  the  other.  As  it 
is  the  nature  of  the  one  to  taste,  it  is  the  nature  of  the 

other  to  see. 
Between,  however,  what  the  eyes  really  show  us.  and 

whit  we  may  fancy  they  show  us,  he  distinguishes  with 
an  accuracy  and  acuteness  that  in  later  tiirn  s  the  worlil 
was  long  in  recovering.     Tli^  ^.  he  says,  do  not  see 

distanc(\  All  tliey  show  us  aiv  cntain  shnpes  and  colors, 
as  though  they  were  all  jiainted  on  a  tlat  >heet  (tf  paper, 
and  thus  without  solidity.  Tlie  perception  of  distance 
is  an  act  not  of  sight  but  of  unconscious  inference.  It 
is  produced  in  this  way.  Every  film,  as  it  is  <li..t  along 
through  the  air.  drives  a  certain  amount  of  air  brfore 
it,  and  the  greater  the  distance  tliat  a  tilni  has  travelled 
before  reaching  tlie  •  Mie  grt  aler  the  power  and  the 

volume  of  this  air.  This  air,  says  Lucretia>,  ■brushes 
the  e\'^s  as  it  enters  tliem.  and  srt  |>:i>ses  through.  The 
consequence  is,  that  we  see  how  far  disiant  each 
thing  is.  And  the  greater  the  (luantity  of  air  that  is 
driven  on  before  it,  and  the  larger  the  current  that 
brushes  our  tyes.  the  more  distant  each  different  thing 
is  seen  to  be."  Nor  must  \vc  wonder  that  we  only  sec 
a  single  object  when  the  sight  of  it  is  produced  by  a 
continuous  number  of  films  striking  our  eyes.  "For 
thus  when  wind  too  beats  us  with  successive  stroke-, 
and  when  piercing  cold  streams,  we  are  not  wont  to  feel 
eacii  single  particle  of  the  wind  or  cold,  but  rather  the 
whole  result;  and  then  we  perceive  blows  take  effect 
upon  our  body,  just  as  if  something  or  other  were 
beating  it,  and  giving  us  a  sensation  of  its  body  out- 
side." 

We  shall  realize  this  whole  theory  more  vividly  if  we 
examine  the  wav  in  which  Lucretius  uses  it  to  explain 


SCIENTIFIC  i>YSTEM  OF  LVCRETICS. 


O  i 


the  pbenomeua  of  reflection,  and  in  especial  the  reason 
^vhy  we  seem  to  see  objects  iiuide  mirrors  or  reflecting 
surfaces.     "The  case,"  he  says,  "is  really  merely  the 
same  as  when  we  see  things  in  their  reality  beyond  a 
door."    That  vision,  as  will  be  plain  enough,  is  caused 
by  two  separate  airs,  the  air  inside  the  doorway  and 
the  air  outside  it.     Supposing  there  is  a  doorway  twenty 
feet  from  us,  and  through  the  doorway  we  see  a  man 
standing  twenty  feet  beyond  it.     The  films,  or  images  of 
the  doorway,  and  the  leaves  of  the  door,  carry  to  our 
eyes  in  reaching  us  the  intervening  air  that  is  withm  the 
room;  and  from  the  volume  of  that,  we  infer  mstinc- 
tively  that  the  doorway  is  at  its  actual  distance  from  us. 
The  films,  or  images  of  t?lie  man  beyond  the  doorway, 
carry  to  our  eyes  also  a  similar  amount  of  the  air  that  is 
within  the  room;  but.  in  addition  to  this,  they  carry  also 
an  equal  amount  of  the  air  from  out  of  doors,  and  from 
this  we  infer  instinctively  that  the  man  is  at  as  great  a 
distance  from  the  door  as  the  door  is  from  ourselves.     In 
the  same  way,  two  airs  of  different  volume  make  us  sen 
reflected  objects  as  though  they  were  inside  the  surface 
that  reflects  them.     It  happens  thus:  Suppose  a  mirror 
to  be  twenty  feet  from  us,  the  image  of  the  mirror  car- 
ries  an  air  to  our  eyes,  from  the  volume  of  which  we  at 
once  infer  the  distance.     The  instant  after  we  have  felt 
this  air.  our  pupil  receives  the  image.     We  see  the  mir- 
ror, and  we  know  how  far  off  it  is.     Meanwhile  an 
image  of  ourselves  has  been  carried  to  the  surface  of 
the  mirror,  and  in  another  instant  rebounds  back  again 
to  ourselves,  and  is  received  by  the  eyes.      The  image 
carries  with  it.  as  the  image  of  the  mirror  did,  another 
air  and  an  air  of  exactly  the  same  volume,  which  fol- 
lows the  former  air  so  closely,  that  the  sensations  pro- 
duced by  the  two  are  practically  united ;  and  our  first 


58 


L  UCRETIUS. 


inference  that  the  mirror  was  twenty  feet  from  us.  is 
Bupplemented  now  by  the  inference  that  our  own  form 
reflected  in  it  is  forty  feet  from  us,— in  otlier  words, 
that  it  is  as  far  inside  the  mirror  as  we  are  outside  it. 

"  And  now,"  says  Lucretius,  "  to  explain  the  other  phenomena 
of  reflection.  The  right  side  of  our  bodies  is  seen  in  mirrors  to 
be  on  the  left,  because  when  the  image  comes  and  strikes  on  the 
plane  of  the  mirror,  it  is  not  turned  back  unaltered,  but  is  beaten 
out  in  a  right  line  backwards,  just  as  if  you  were  to  take  a 
plaster  mask  before  it  is  dry  and  dash  it  over  a  pillar  or  beam, 
and  it  forthwith  were  to  preserve  the  lines  of  its  features  imdis- 
turbed  in  front,  and  were  to  strike  out  an  exact  copy  of  itself 
straight  backwards.  The  result  will  be,  that  the  eye  which  was 
right  will  now  be  left,  and  conversely  the  left  become  the  right. 
An  image  may  also  be  so  transmitted  from  one  mirror  to 
another  that  five  or  six  images  are  often  produced.  And  thus  all 
the  things  that  bask  in  the  dimmest  corners  of  a  house  may  yet 
all  be  brought  out  through  winding  passages  by  the  aid  of  a 
number  of  mirrors,  so  unfailingly  does  the  image  reflect  itself 
from  mirror  to  mirror;  and  when  the  left  side  is  reflected  it  be- 
comes the  right  side  in  the  new  image;  then  it  ia  changed  back 
again,  and  turns  round  to  what  it  was.  Moreover,  all  mirrors 
which  form  little  sides  possessing  a  curvature  resembling  our 
sides,  send  back  to  us  images  with  their  right,  corresponding  to 
our  right,  for  one  or  other  of  two  reasons;  either  because  the 
image  is  transmitted  from  one  side  to  another,  and  then,  after  it 
has  been  twice  struck  out,  flies  to  us;  or,  it  may  be,  because 
the  image,  when  it  has  come  to  the  mirror,  wheels  round,  be- 
cause the  curved  slope  of  the  mirror  teaches  it  to  turn  itself  as 
we  are  turned.  Again,  you  would  think  images  step  out  and 
put  down  their  feet  at  the  same  time  with  us,  and  mimic  our 
actions.  This  happens  because,  from  before  whatever  part  of 
a  mirror  you  move  away,  from  that  part  forthwith  no  images 
can  be  reflected,  since  nature  constrains  all  things,  when  they 
are  carried  back  and  recoil  from  things,  to  be  given  back  as 
angles  equal  to  those  at  which  they  impinged." 

The  sun,  Lucretius  says,  blinds  the  eyes,  because  the 
images  of  it  "  are  borne  Ihrougli  the  clear  air  with  great 
downward  force  from  on  high,  and  strike  the  eyes,  and 
disorder  their  fasten! ugs." 


SCIENTIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LVCUETIUS 


59 


We  can  see  light  things  out  of  the  dark  because 
"  when  the  black  air  first  lia.>  ti.Un  possession  of  the 
eyes  the  light  air  enters  in  afterwards,  and  cleanses  the 
black  shadows  of  the  other  air;  for  this  is  a  ^eat  deal 
more  nimble  and  subtle  and  efficacious."  We  cannot, 
however,  see  dark  things  out  of  the  light,  "because  the 
grosser  air  of  darkness  follows  behind  and  quite  fills  all 
the  openings,  and  blocks  up  the  passages  of  the  eyes, 
not  letting  the  images  of  any  things  at  all  be  thrown 
into  the  eyes  to  move  them."  „   ,  .    • 

When  "  all  looks  yellow  to  the  jaundiced  eye,  this  is 
because  "  greenish-yellow  seeds  stream  from  the  man's 
body,  and  meet  the  images  of  things;  and  many.  too. 
are  mixed  up  in  the  eyes." 

When  distant  objects  look  blurred  and  hazy  to  us— 
when  square  towers,  for  instance,  seem  to  be  round,  and 
to  lose  all  their  angles-"  this  is  because,  whde  the  im- 
ages are  borne  in  through  much  air.  the  air  by  repeated 
collisions  blunts  the  stroke." 

In  spite  however,  of  these,  and  many  other  optical 
delusions,  we  must  not  admit  that  the  eyes  can  in  any 
way   deceive   us.    The  deception  is  due   to  another 

cause 

A  few  familiar  instances  will  explain  to  us  the  real 
nature  of  the  case.  When  we  are  sailing,  the  coasts  .eem 
to  move  away  from  us.  not  we  from  them.  The  stars, 
which  are  really  in  constant  movement  ^^em  .'  -<: 
watch  them  on  a  clear  night,  to  be  complete  y  a  rest 
and  acuin  it  we  watch  them  on  a  cloudy  night,  through 
the  cWv  ng  rack,  they  seem  to  he  moving  far  faster  than 
they  do  But  in  these  cases  it  is  not  the  eyes  that  cheat 
us;  it  is  the  mind  that  makes  wrong  i-f^^^^^es  from 
the  data  given  by  sight.  "  It  is  the  provmce  of  the 
eyes  "  sajs  Lucretius,  ■'  to  observe  in  what  spot  soever 


60 


lA'CUETU  >. 


ligiii  iuidc  ail  ;  bill  wIr'IIrt  llie  lighls  are  still  the 

same  or  not,  aint  whether  "t  is  the  same  shadow  w  liich 
was  in  this  spot  that  is  now  passing  to  that,  tliis  tliu 
reason  of  the  mind,  and  only  it,  has  to  determine;  nor 
can  the  eyes  know  the  nature  of  things."  Light  and 
shade— it  is  this,  and  this  alone,  we  can  be  reallv  said 
to  .t:  -  Distance  and  solidity— in  a  word,  the  real  figure 
and  the  real  position  of  anything — this  we  do  not  see, 
but  we  infer.  And  if  we  could  seek  for  the  source  of 
optical  delusions,  we  must  seek  it  only  in  "  the  menial 
suppo^inons  which  we  add  of  ourselves,  taking  those 
tiling.  ..  seen  which  the  senses  do  not  see.  For 
nothing  is  harder  than  to  separate  manifest  facts  from 
doubtful,  which  the  mind  straightway  adds  on  of 
itself." 

SECTION  VII. 

THE  MIXD  AXD  SENSE. 

Closely  connected  with  his  theory  of  vision  is  Lu- 
cretius's  explanation  of  the  chief  phenomena  of  the 
mind,  and  especially  the  will  and  tiie  imagination. 
Images  of  things,  as  we  have  seen,  he  conceives  to  be 
wandering  about  everywhere;  and  these,  as  has  been 
observed  before,  are  of  various  kinds.  Those  we  have 
been  just  considering  are  apparently  conceived  of  as  dis- 
charged exclusively  in  straight  lines,  and  gradually  dis- 
solving after  they  have  travelled  a  certain  distance. 
But  besides  these,  there  are  others  of  "  a  far  thinner 
texture  than  those  that  take  possession  of  the  eyes.* 
Of  such  thin  images  the  air  is  full.  They  are  floating 
hither  and  thither  in  incalculable  courses;  and  when 
they  meet,  they  continually  get  entangled  with  each 
other,  "like  cobwebs,  or  i)ieces  of  gold-leaf."    Hence 


IJ  .i«-.ailJI*J.Jk»i«»aMl*ll>iMttlllll>MllMm 


^fcuUiUlute 


SCIENTIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS.     61 


they  are  each  made  up  of  countless  actual  things;  but 
taking  each  as  a  whole,  it  is  usually  a  thing  with  no  ex- 
isting counterpart.  Some  of  these  composite  imago?  are 
forms  of  po.ssible  though  not  of  actual  things;  others  of 
things  lli^t  are  in  their  very  nature  impossible,  such  as 
centaurs,  or  satyrs,  chima?ras,  which  are  formed  from 
the  chance  combinations  of  images  of  men,  and  horses, 
and  goats,  and  other  animals.  "  That  this  must  be  so," 
says  Lucretius,  "it  is  easy  enough  to  see.  For  so  far 
as  one  result  is  like  another,  that  which  we  see  with 
the  mind  and  with  the  eyes  must  be  produced  in  a  like 
way.  And  since  I  have  show^n  that  we  perceive  a  line, 
for  instance,  by  means  of  films  or  imagest  hrown  off  its 
surface,  you  may  see  that  the  mind  is  moved  by  a  pre- 
cisely similar  cause,  with  only  this  one  difference,  that 
it  perceives  much  thinner  images."  Here  we  have  the 
explanation  of  dreams.  In  sleep  the  mind  only  wakes; 
and,  undisturbed  by  those  thicker  images  to  which  the 
eyes  are  sensitive,  it  is  beset  by  wandering  multitudes 
of  the  thinner  kind  that  has  been  just  described- 
images,  for  the  most  part,  probably,  fantastic  an<l  com- 
posite, but  sometimes  intact,  and  corresponding  with 
actual  things,  as  when  our  dead  seem  to  come  back  to 
us  and  visit  us. 

Tliese  images,  too,  seem  to  move  and  act  like  living 
creatures.  Why?  The  explanation  Lucretius  gives  of 
this  is  very  curious.  This  appearance  of  movement  is 
produced  in  much  the  same  way  as  is  that  of  the  figures 
in  a  zoetrope.  We  have  already  seen  that  Lucretius 
seems  never  to  conceive  of  these  images  as  wandering 
about,  or  being  discharged  singly,  but  as  closely  follow- 
ing each  other,  or  as  being  packed  closely  together  like 
the  leaves  of  a  picture-book.  And  the  apparent  move- 
jnents  of  the  dream-images  are  produced  by  a  succession 


62 


LVCRETICS. 


of  such  iuiUovo  of  a  single  object,  eucli  in  a  sligiilly 
differcut  position. 

Lucretius's  tlieory  of  dreuiu-'  will  help  ii^  at  once  lo 
understand  his  tlieorv  of  the  iuiiigiuation.  Imairin- 
atiou,  according  to  him,  is  little  el^e  than  a  '•■'"f-red 
dreaming.  When  we  are  asleep  tlie  dr(  am-imii..--  nave 
us  at  their  mercy,  aud  assail  and  "^  '*e  our  iiiin  is  with- 
out explicable  law  But  when  \.  v  ..ic  awake,  and  our 
body  is  sensitive  lo  all  externul  iiitluences.  llie  mind  is 
more  fenced  about:  aud  ju-t  as  the  b;  '■  •  i'\v<  p;acti- 
cally  see  only  those  things  thai  lliey  iuij>  aiiemiou  to 
(for.  be  they  never  so  plain,  if  we  do  not  attend  lo 
them,  "  it  u  just  the  same  as  if  they  were  far  away  and 
distant"),  so  the  mind,  unless  it  pays  attention  to  tluse 
thin  images,  cau  m  our  waking  moments  perceive  none 
of  them.  When,  however,  the  mmd  v.  •  >  ,  to  imagine 
a  certain  thing,  what  happens  is  this:  n  iuains  its  pow- 
ers to  see  images  of  a  certain  kind;  ;ind  such  images 
are,  according  to  the  Lucreiian  theory,  ahva;  'out  us 
in  mnumerable  muhituiles.  If  we  want  to  imagine  a 
lion,  for  instance,  there  are  always  lion-images  in  our 
neighborhood.  Our  mind  need  bu;  "  nd  to  them,  and 
it  will  at  once  see  them.  This  j^  Liie  reason  why, 
*'wheu  the  will  has  occurred  to  any  one  to  think  of 
a  thing,  the  mind  does  on  the  instant  think  of  that  very 
thing." 


"And  now,"  says  Lucretius.  ''Twill  explain  how  it  come.s  to 
pass  that  we  are  able  to  step  out  w  hen  we  please,  and  how  it  is 
given  us  to  move  about  our  limbs,  aw\  wliat  caus;-  is  wont  to 
Bend  forward  the  g,r*'a\  load  of  our  Ijody.     1  say  that  i  uf 

walking  first  present  themselves  to  our  min  [.  as  we  suil  beture. 
Then  the  will  arises:  for  no  one  wills  to  do  anything'  until  his  mind 
tias  first  determine- 1  what  it  wills.  From  the  v.tv  fact  that  it 
first  determines  sucli  a  thint;,  there  is  an  irn  i--  of  that  filing. 
When,  therefore,  the  mind  bestirs  itself  in  sueh  a  way  us  to  will 


MJ>jf.±i    ^   i-^.af''-  -■■'  -■ 


si'lKyriFlC  SYSTEM   OF  LUCRKTIVS.    6^ 


to  walk  and  step  out.  it  strikes  at  the  same  moment  the  force  of 
the  soul,  which  is  spread  over  the  whole  body,  throughout  the 
limbs  and  frame;  and  tliis  is  easily  done,  since  the  whole  is  held 
m  close  union  w  ilh  the  mind.  Next,  the  soul  in  its  turn  strikes 
the  bxly,  and  thus  the  whole  mass  by  degrees  is  set  in  motion. 
Besides  this  the  body  becomes  rarefied,  and  the  air  enters  in,  in 
great  quantities,  througli  the  opened  pores,  and  is  thus  distrib- 
uted into  the  most  minute  parts  of  the  body.  In  this  way,  then, 
by  liiese  two  causes  artiug  iu  two  different  ways,  the  body  after 
til.-  fa>hi.  'u  of  ships  is  carried  on  by  sails  and  wind.  Aud  herein 
it  need  n(»t  excite  any  surjtrise  that  such  very  minute  bodies  cau 
steer  bodies  that  are  so  heavy,  and  turn  them  about;  for  wind, 
though  of  a  fine  aud  subtle  body,  can  push  on  a  large  ship,  aud 
one  hand  cau  direct  it  to  any  point  you  hke." 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  above  passage  that  the  entire 
theory  of  Lucretius  on  these  points  betrays  a  certain 
confusion  of  thought.  Will,  he  says,  arises  in  the  mind 
on  a  certain  image  being  presented  to  the  imagination. 
But  lie  holds  it  to  be  also  equally  true  that  each  act  of 
imagination  must  be  preceded  by  will.  What  is  the 
cause,  then,  of  that  initial  act? 

The  answer  to  this  question  is  one  of  the  most  curious 
things  in  his  whole  system.  Though  in  treating  of  the 
will  and  the  imagination  he  seems  to  conceive  of  the 
latter  as  solely  the  producer  of  the  former,  yet  in  an- 
other place  he  fully  recognizes  the  fact  that  the  former 
is  also  the  producer  of  the  latter;  and  he  ascribes  to  it, 
in  this  capacity,  all  the  altril)utes  of  absolute  and  unde- 
termined freedom.  Theluiman  will  is  self-determining; 
it  is  the  producer  of  succeeding  circumstances:  but  to  a 
great  extent,  at  least,  it  is  not  the  product  of  preceding 
circumstances.  It  is  a  "  man's  own  will."  he  says,  "  that 
makes  for  each  a  beginning."  And  again,  "  The  power 
has  been  wrested  from  tlie  Fates,  by  which  we  go  for- 
ward whither  the  will  leads  e:\(h."  Thus  eager  horses  on 
the  race-course  cannot  leap  forward  so  quickly  as  the 


u 


Lvcimrivs. 


SCIENTIFIC  SY:STEM  OF  LUCRETIUS.     65 


mind  desires.     Here  the  that  cause  is  the  mind.     It  is 
from  the  miud  that  the  motion  is  transmitted  through 
the  body.     Such  cases  as  these  are  plainly  quite  distinct 
from  those  in  which  we  are   propelled  onwards  by  a 
blow    from    without.     '*For  do  you   not    perceive," 
he  says,    "that  though  in   this   case  there  is  an  out- 
ward force  that  pushes   men  on,    there  is  yet  some- 
thing   in    our    breast   sutticienl    to    struggle    against 
and  resist  it?     And  when  this  something  chooses,  the 
store  of  matter  is  impelled  sometimes  to  change  its 
course  through  the  frame,  and  after  it  lias  been  forced 
forward  is  reined  in."     Hence,  Lucretius  argues,  it  is 
evident  that  all  "motion  cannot   be   linked  together, 
nor  a  new  motion  alw;i\  s  sjiring  from  another  in  fixed 
order."    The  mind  is  atomic,  and  therefore  this  free- 
dom of  the  mind  is  the  result  of  a  certain  freedom  from 
conditions  in  atomic  movement.     *•  Tliere  must,  besides 
blous  and  weights,  be  another  cause  of  motion,  from 
which  thi^  power  of  free  action  has  been  begotten  in 
us."    This  cause  is  none  other  than  that  tendency  of 
the  atoms,  ^^  hich  in  the  very  beginning  he  was  obliged 
to  postulate,  to   deflect   continually  a  little,  here  and 
there,  from  their  downward  course;  without  which,  as 
we  have  seen,  they  would  never  have  jostled  against 
each  other,  but  would  have  gone  on  falling  to  all  eter- 
nity in  parallel  lines,  and  at  their  original  distances. 
It  certainly  seems  at  first  sight  that,   according  to 
Uieoi-y,  not  the  mind  only  would  be  delivered  fr»m 
natural  law,  but  that  there  would  be  no  uniformity  iii 
nature  anywhere.     And  Lucretius  aowliere  oilers  any 
direct  exi>lauation  of  this  ditikulty.     It  seems  not  im- 
probalile,  however,  that  could  we  get  to  the  bottom  of 
his  conception,  we  should  find  that,  the  mind  being  ac- 
cording to  him  the  subtlest  and  most  mobile  of  all  ma- 


.    • 


terial  things,  the  atoms  composing  it  were  able  to  re- 
tain the  whole  of  their  original  freedom;  whilst  in  the 
case  of  all  other  substances,  it  had  been  overcome  by 
their  weight  and  their  coarser  texture. 

SECTION  VIII. 

THE  MORTALITY  OP  MIND  AND  SOUL. 

We  have  seen  how  closely  mind  and  soul  are  in  the 
Lucretian  theory  connected  with  the  body.  From  this 
theory  Lucretius  deduces  further,  that  mind  and  soul 
cannot  live  as  soon  as  that  connection  is  severed.  The 
vital  principle  is  not  the  body,  but  it  is  held  by  tlie 
body,  and  it  grows  and  changes  with  the  body's  capaci- 
ties for  holding  it.  Under  some  of  its  aspects,  though 
he  never  says  as  much,  Lucretius  seems  to  have  con- 
ceived of  this  principle  as  a  kind  of  subtle  and  power- 
ful secretion  of  the  body,— a  sort  of  potent  gas  or  ether, 
generated  by  the  flesh  and  blood,  and  reacting  on  it. 

The  following  are  the  various  arguments  by  which 
he  seeks  to  demonstrate  that,  if  the  mind  and  soul  are 
essential  to  the  life  of  the  body,  the  body  is  also  essen- 
tial to  the  life  of  mind  and  soul,  and  that  all  conse- 
quently perish  and  are  dissolved  together.  In  the  first 
place,  mind  and  soul  being,  as  has  been  shown,  made 
up  of  the  smallest  atoms,  tliey  will  be  spilt  abroad  as 
water  is  when  the  body — the  vessel  that  contains  them 
— is  broken.  Also,  we  see  mind  makes  it  first  appear- 
ance when  the  body  does;  it  grows  with  the  body,  it 
•declines  with  the  body,  and  therefore,  according  to  all 
analogy,  it  will  perish  with  it.  The  mind  is  subject  to 
pain  as  the  body  is;  therefore,  according  to  all  analogy, 
It  will  ha  subject  to  death  also.  Diseases  of  the  body, 
drink,  and  other  excesses,  disorder  the  mind,  and  the 


w 


L  UCBETIUS. 


mi  ml  is  often  healed  by  ivieaicine  as  the  body  is.  Here 
is  auotlier  symptom  nf  ilie  mind's  mortality. 

Further,  we  see  men  die  piecemeal— the  vital  soul 
leaviug  the  limbs  one  by  one.  Were  the  soul  immor- 
tal, it  would  mass  itself  iu  the  unaffected  parts.  Tlds. 
however,  it  evidently  does  not  do;  for,  if  it  did,  such 
parts  would  manifest  a  greater  amount  of  sense.  The 
mind  has  its  seat  in  a  particular  part  of  a  man's  body, 
just  as  hearing  has  its  seat  iu  the  car.  But  if  the  car 
be  cut  off,  it  mortifies;  aod  so,  in  like  manner,  when 
the  body  goes  will  the  mind  decay. 

At  death,  if  the  mind  was  immortal,  "  it  would  not 
so  much  complain  of  dissolution  as  of  getting  ri.l  of  its 
vesture,  like  a  snake,  or  of  being  turncM  (.ut  of  doors." 

Again,  if  the  soul  be  immortal,  "and  can  feel  when 
separated  from  the  body,  we  must  suppose  if  to  be  pro- 
vided with  live  senses.  But  neither  .  ,  nor  nose,  nor 
hand,  nor  tongue,  nor  ears,  can  exi^  for  the  >nul  by 
themselves,  or  perceive  anything  apart  from  the  body." 

Here  is  another  fact  to  notice.  Men  in  various  ways 
—in  fighting,  for  instance— lose  their  limbs,  and  go  on 
with  their  occupation,  if  violently  excited,  without  i)er- 
ceiving  their  loss.  Meanwhile  the  limbs  lie  on  the 
grountl  quivering.  Because  they  quiver,  it  is  evident 
that  they  retain  something  in  them  of  vital  principle. 
But  it  is  impossible  to  think  that  in  each  piece  there  is 
remaining  an  entire  soul,  for  in  that  case  a  man  would 
have  many  souls.  The  soul  or  vital  principle  has  there- 
fore been  cut  up  and  divided;  but  that  which  can  be 
cut  up  cannot  be  immortal. 

Again,  if  the  soul  is  iumiortal,  and  comes  into  our 
body  at  birth,  as  some  hold  it  does,  why  cannot  we  re- 
member its  former  existence?  If  between  our  two  ex- 
istences there  has  been  such  a  break  of  consciousness, 


i 


SCIhWTIFJO  SrsiEM  OF  LITRETIVS.    67 

this  is  equal  to  death,  and  in  no  sense  can  the  two  ex- 
istences be  called  the  same.  So  we  must  admit  that  the 
soul  which  was  before  has  perished. 

Again,  if  the  mind  were  wailing  ready-made  to  join 
our  bodies  at  the  instant  of  birth,  it  would  not  be  dis- 
persed, as  it  is,  overall  the  body,  "so  that  even  our 
very  teeth  seem  to  have  life  in  them,  but  it  would  be  in 
a  den  apart  by  itself."  Or  if,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
oozes  in  from  without,  and  so  blends  itself  with  all  the 
limbs  in  that  way,  much  more  wall  it  be  mortal;  for, 
says  Lucretius,  whatever  oozes  iu  through  another  thing 
is  dissolved  and  therefore  dies." 

Again,  we  observe  that  living  creatures,  such  as 
w^orms,  spring  out  of  dead  bodies.  It  is  plain  from 
this  that  fragments  of  the  soul  are  left  in  the  body  after 
death,  therefore  the  soul  is  not  immortal.  For  it  is  im- 
possible to  believe  that  these  worms  have  each  of  them 
a  separate  and  newly-made  soul,  that  builds  for  itself  a 
place  to  dwell  in. 

We  must  consider  this  also.  The  character  of  the 
various  species  of  animals  could  not  remain  constant  as 
it  does,  if  ready-made  souls  could  at  random  find  their 
way  into  bodies.  Some  meet  this  by  saying  that  souls 
are  altered  by  the  bodies  they  live  in.  But  this,  says 
Lucretius,  is  false,  for  this  reason,  "that  whatever  is 
changed  is  dissolved,  and  therefore  dies."  But  if  men 
say  that  human  souls  always  cling  to  human  bodies, 
and  so  on,  "  how  is  it  that  a  soul  can  change  from  wise 
to  foolish,  and  that  a  child  has  no  discretion?"  Men 
will  say  that  a  soul  grows  weakly  in  a  weakly  body. 
But  even  if  this  be  so,  it  must,  from  this  very  fact, 
be  all  the  more  admitted  that  the  soul  is  mortal,  since 
"changed  so  completely  through  the  frame,  it  loses  its 
former  life  and  sense  " 


68 


( -' - 


•  1,/^. 


LVCnETIV>. 

Q  wbat  can  be  more  ri.liculous  than  the  picture 

rwi  ^.vi:!  have  to  present  to  itself  if  it  con- 

;  gep'iraie  existences,  before  their 

,     arc  prfn'ir''l  t-.  receive  them,  than  a 

1  •  r  rr.Tvflu)^         It  each  br.'ly  as  soon  as  it 

1  „,.  .....   aigglingteir'-r  ndnu^.ion  into  it? 

,,,;i!v,iiK-analogyofaUnat.  hat  nothing 

can  live  hut  in  iH  own  c-'pecitil  r-k^rnent,  or  surrounded 
l',^.  j^^  „,,,.,  .,.-  ,.,..1  roTHlitions.  Trees  cannot  live  in  the 
,''  -  ,,r  ii~..  .w  ;.  .  .  ,  •■  <"*i"  ^^'f  ^^^  hhMy<\  in  stones. 
•  in  ake  mariner  ihe'nature  of  i;utia  cannot  come  iiUo 
being  alotie  without  boily.  nor  exist  fur  away  from  the 
fcinews  and  blood." 

SECTION  IX. 

THE   IMPERFECTION   AND   MORTALITY   OF  THE  OflVKRSE. 

Such  then,  is  the  Liicrctian  conception  of  the  uni- 
verse of  niiud  and  matter,  or  rather  of  matter  organic 
and  inorganic,  animate  and  iuuninuite— the  joint  work 
of  chance  and  of  necessity,  without  purpose%  without 

a  mind  to  guide  it.  ,         •   • 

Even  without  anv  scientific  knowledge  of  the  origin 
„f  thin"         -     T.ucretius.  the  manifold  and  manifest 
defects  m  uii.  univrr.e  would  at  once  make  it  ch-ar  to 
us  thai  it  was  the  work  of  no  divine  creator.     Much  of 
the    eaith.    for    instance,    is    wastefully   occupied    by 
mountains  an  ■  '    •    '     and  seas.     Extremes  of  climate 
make  nianv  reuiuu:.  unfit  for  human  habitation.     ^  hat- 
ever  of  the  land  is  left  f.)r  tillage,  only  yields  its  fruit 
grudginclv.  when  compelled  by  incessant  toil  and  labor. 
And   theii.   even   when   the   fruits  of   the  earth   have 
sprung  up.  heat  and  storm  and  frost  often  cast  them 
down  untimely.     Much  of  the  earth  is  also  infested  by 


•    V        • 


•t  W     " 


SCIENTIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS,     G9 

wild  beasts,  whose  existence  can  fidfil  no  possible  end. 
Children,  too — the  3'oung  of  the  noblest  and  chief  of 
living  creatures — nre  born  miserable,  wailing,  and  help- 
less; while  the  young  of  the  lower  animals  grow  up 
without  any  of  the  care  that  is  needed  by  us,  and  na- 
ture yields  to  them  all  their  food  ungrudgingly. 

What  the  beginning  of  this  universe  was  we  have 
already  seen.  As  it  is  clear  that  it  had  a  beginning, 
80,  says  Lucretius,  it  is  equally  clear  that  it  will  also 
have  an  end.  Everything,  in  his  eye,  points  to  this 
conclusion.  Fire,  water,  earth,  and  air,  "  out  of  which 
this  sum  of  things  is  seen  to  be  formed,  do  all  consist 
of  a  body  that  had  a  birth,  and  is  mortal.  The  whole 
world,  therefore,  must  be  reckoned  of  a  like  body. 
I  see  that  the  chiefest  members  and  parts  of  the  world 
are  begotten  and  destroyed  anew;  I  may  accordingly  be 
sure  that  for  heaven  and  earth  as  well  there  has  been  a 
time  of  beginning,  and  there  will  be  a  time  of  destruc- 
tion." Let  us  consider  the  four  elements  separately. 
Earth  is  visibly  mortal,  because  it  is  broken  by  the  tread 
of  men  into  dust,  which  is  carried  off  by  the  winds; 
and  water  also  eats  away  and  dissolves  it.  Water  is 
visibly  mortal,  because,  though  seas  and  rivers  are  al- 
ways full,  they  are  yet  always  losing  their  waters  by- 
evaporation,  and  also  by  absorption  into  the  eartli. 
Air  is  visibly  mortal,  because  "it  is  changed  over 
its  whole  body  every  hour,  in  countless  ways.  For 
whatever  ebhs  from  things,  is  always  borne  into  the 
great  sea  of  air;  and  unless  it  in  return  were  ever  in 
many  places  ceasing  to  be  air,  and  were  also  in  re- 
turn giving  back  bodies  to  things,  all  things  would 
now  have  been  dissolved  and  changed  into  air." 
The  same,  too,  is  the  case  with  light  and  fire,  which  is 
for  ever  being  supplied,   and  for  ever  wasted.      All 


jjBa^liiihiitWfiidMiii  itf  Ml 


I 


sif'Trr XTTvn ♦   w tq tttm  htp   t  irn r>  vvrTrc     »»< 


70 


Ln'nHT[r\ 


lumiuous  things,  the  sun  and  the  stars  in  heaven  and 
the  lamps  andlires  of  earth,  are  ahv.ys  losing  tlK-ir  sub- 
stance by  each  fresh  emission  of  light,  and  are  conse- 
quently being  recruited  from  some  otlicr  element.     Nor 
is  imy  substance  so  solid  that  it  does  not  waste  away. 
Stone  towers   gradually  waste  and   crunible.      Rocks 
tumble  off    the  tops  of    mouiiiaiii«^.     Even  iron  and 
brass  are  corroded,  and  gra<lu:dly  cease  to  be.     Tliey 
resolve  themselves  into  some  other  form.     All  the  ele- 
ments, in  fact,  are  at  strife  with  one  another,  each  prey- 
ing upon  and  eating  into  the  other.      The  sun.  for  in- 
stance, is  always  trying   to  drink  up  tiie  waters;  but 
hitherto,  says  Lucretius,  h'^  lias  failed,  so  abundant  are 
the  fresh  supplies  of  water;  "  though  once,  theru  is  a 
tradition,  that  fire  got  the  upper  hand;  and   once.^  as 
the  story  goes,  water  reigned  dominant  in  tlie  fields.  "^ 

From  all  this,  we  may  conjecture  the  way  in  which 
the  final  disruption  will  take  place.     Nor.  accortling  to 
the  theory  of    Lucretius,    can    there   be   wanting  the 
chance  of    the  catastrophe  happening   in   yet   another 
way.     This  universe  which  we  call  ours.  i>.  a-  we  have 
seen,  a  kind  of   azure  bul)ble,  with  the  earth  in   the 
middle  of  it.      It  is  one  only  of  an  inluiite  numl)er  of 
similar  worlds,  which  are  all  for  ever  falling  downwards 
through  the  infinite  void.     It  must  l)e  possible,  there- 
fore, according  to  the  Lucretian  theory,  that  between 
two  or  more  universes  there  may  at  any  moment  be 
a  collision. 

It  is,  however,  to  causes  from  within  that  Lucretius 
seems  chiefly  to  look  for  the  final  dissolution  of  things. 
Nor  does  he  seem  to  tliink  tliat  tliis  dissolution  is  an 
event  that  promises  to  be  very  distant.  lb'  conceives 
the  world  to  have  taken  not  many  cut  mi.  >  in  bringing 
itself  to  its  present  condition;  and  he  bases  this  opinion 


m 'SHS!!KfPPf!P?"W^^^^^^^^^^ 


i<CIb:M:iFlr  ."SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS.     71 

on  the  fact  that  he  knows  of  no  history  that  goes  fur- 
ther back  than  the  Tlieban  war  and  the  destruction  of 
Troy.  "Therefore,"  he  says,  "the  truth,  I  think,  is 
that  the  whole  has  but  a  recent  date,  and  the  nature  of 
the  world  is  new,  and  has  but  lately  had  its  beginning." 
But  if,  he  concludes,  there  have  been,  as  some  men  hold, 
other  races  and  otlier  civilizations,  of  whom  all  record 
has  perished  in  some  great  flood  or  earthquake,  all  the 
more  must  we  admit  the  entire  future  destruction  of  the 
earth  and  heaven.  "  And  in  no  other  way  are  we  our- 
selves proved  to  be  mortals,  except  because  we  all  alike 
in  turn  fall  sick  of  the  same  disease  with  those  whom 
nature  has  withdrawn  from  life. 


SECTION  X. 

THE  mSTORY  OF  HUMAK  PROGRESS. 

Having  now  seen  w  hat  was  the  Lucretian  conception 
of  man's  dwelling-place,  and  also  of  his  origin  and 
nature,  it  remains  to  consider  the  account  given  of  his 
progress  from  his  earliest  to  his  latest  stage;  the  history 
of  society,  of  art,  of  manufactures;  and  lastly,  of  reli- 
gion. And  here,  as  has  been  observed  already,  we  shall 
find  Lucretius,  in  a  rough  and  general  way,  in  singular 
accordance  with  the  most  modern  speculation,  and  en- 
tirely opposed  to  a  number  of  fanciful  theories,  such 
as  that  of  the  state  of  nature,  and  so  forth,  which  have 
been  current  in  later  times. 

Men  at  first,  says  Lucretius,  were  savage,  hardy  crea- 
tures, scarcely  to  be  distinguished  from  the  lower  ani- 
mals, whom  indeed  they  had  not  yet  learnt  to  subjugate 
or  use  for  food.  Tliey  had  neither  fire,  nor  clothing, 
nor  shelter,  neither  laws  nor  religion.  They  felt  no 
wonder  and  no  awe  at  nature.    They  acquiesced  quietly 


n 


LUCRETIUS. 


in  her  courses.     Their  struggle  for  food,  and  to  protect 
liiemselves  against  the  wild  animals,  occupied  all  tbeir 
time  and  lliouglits.     Having  no  leisure  for  reflection, 
they  neither  imagined  gods  nor  feared  them.     In  time 
they  took  a  step  forward.     They  learnt  the  use  of  fire, 
probably  from  the  ignition  of  wood  in  forests,  through 
the  rubbing  together  of  the  branches.    Having  thus  dis- 
covered tire,  they  learnt  to  apply  it  to  cooking,  from  ob- 
serving how  the  heat  of  the  sun  mellowed  fruits,  and 
improved  the  taste  of  them.     Then  by  chance  they  dis- 
covered the  use  of  metals,  and  how  to  use  and  work 
them,  in  tiie  following  way:   When  large  forests  caught 
lire,  either  from  lightning  or  from  some  other  cause, 
streams  of  various  metals  would  often  gush  out  of  the 
veins  of  the  heated  earth.     "  And  when  men  saw  them 
afterwards  cool  into  lumps,  and  glitter  on  the  earth  wiih 
a  brilliant  gleam,  they  would  lift  them  up,  attracted  by 
the  light  and  polished  lustre,  and  would  see  them  to  be 
moulded  in  a  shape  the  same  as  the  outline  of  the  cavi- 
ties in  which  each  lay.     Then  it  would  strike  them  that 
these  might  be  moulded  by  heat,  and  cast  in  any  shape 
soever."    Gradually  also  they  learnt  t©  sul)due  and  slay 
the  wild  animals,  and  use  their  skins  for  clothing;  and 
they  also  made  huts  for  tliemselves. 

Tliey  now  entered  on  a  new  stage  of  existence,  of 
which  the  most  important  feature  was  monogamy. 
Here,  says  Lucretius,  we  have  the  source  of  all  subse- 
quent iniprovement— indeed,  of  the  real  humanization 
of  humanity.  For  now  it  was  that  the  family  affections 
sprang  up  round  separate  homes  and  firesides. 

'*  The  fire  made  their  chilled  bodies  less  able  to  bear  the  frost 
beneath  the  canopy  of  heaven,  and  Venus  impaire<i  their 
strength,  and  children  with  their  caresses  soon  broke  down  the 
haughty  temper  of  parents.    Then,  too,  neighbors  began  to  join 


SCIENTIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS    73 


in  a  league  of  friendship,  mutually  desiring  neither  to  do  nor 
suffer  harm;  and  asked  for  indulgence  to  children  and  woman- 
kind, when,  with  cries  and  gestures,  they  declare  in  stammering 
speech  that  meet  it  is  for  all  to  have  mercy  on  the  weak.  And 
though  harmony  could  not  be  established  without  exception,  yet 
a  very  large  portion  observed  their  agreements  with  good  faith, 
or  else  the  race  of  man  would  then  have  been  wholly  cut  off, 
nor  would  the  breed  have  continued  their  generations  to  this 
day." 

Most  of  this  gradual  progress  was  due,  especially  so 
far  as  material  improvement  went,  to  the  special  genius 
of  individuals;  and  accordingly,  for  some  time  knowl- 
edge was  power,  and  men  of  intellect  ruled  the  rest. 
For  it  was  only  gradually  and  with  difficulty  that  mind 
obtained  any  mastery  over  matter.  At  first  men  used 
all  the  metals  promiscuously.  They  made  axes  and 
tools  out  of  gold  and  silver,  and  only  by  long  experi- 
ence found  out  that  these  were  not  so  serviceable  as 
the  harder  metals.  At  last  they  made  this  disvovery; 
and  then  the  harder  metals— such  as  copper,  and  lastly, 
iron— were  for  a  time  looked  upon  as  more  precious 
than  gold. 

In  the  same  gradual  way  did  men  learn  all  the 
other  arts  and  ordinances  of  life.  The  art  of  weaving 
followed  on  the  discovery  of  iron,  "because  the  loom 
is  fitted  with  iron,  and  in  no  other  way  can  such  finely 
polished  things  as  the  details  of  the  loom's  machinery 
be  made.  And  nature  impelled  men  to  work  up  the  wool 
before  womankind— for  the  male  sex  in  general  far  excels 
the  other  in  skill,  and  is  far  more  ingenious;  until  the 
rugged  countrymen  so  upbraided  them  with  it,  that  they 
were  glad  to  give  it  over  into  the  hands  of  women,  and 
take  their  share  in  supporting  hard  toil." 

Thus  gradually,  through  repeated  struggles  and  re- 
peated failures,  did  the  civilization  of  man  grow— tlie 


14 


LUCRETIUS. 


work  of  the  industry  and   labor  of  the  many  directed 
by  the  sagacity  of  tlic  few. 

Whilst  all  this  was  going  on,  Lucniius  conceives  an 
important  cliange  to  have  taken  place  at  one  disliuoi 
stage.  '*  Kings  began  to  build  towns  and  lay  out  a  cita- 
del as  a  place  of  refuge  for  themselves,  and  divided 
cattle  and  lauds,  and  gave  to  each  man  in  proportion  to 
his  personal  beauty  and  strengih  of  intellect.'*  After- 
wards riches  began  to  j,-et  more  unequal.  The  few  con- 
trived to  centre  in  themselves  most  of  the  goods  of  the 
many;  gold,  too — though  how.  Lucretius  does  not  say 
— grew  to  be  looked  on  botli  as  a  sigji  and  a  constituent 
of  riches,  sought  after  l>y  all.  and  amassed  l»y  some. 
Thus  a  new  factor,  a  new  ])ovver,  was  introduced  into 
life — the  source  of  half  life's  ])resent  mi.?ery.  Kiches— 
a  false  aim— had  now  ari>en  to  lure  men  on;  and  the 
possession  of  riches  now  gave  more  power  than  the 
possession  of  intellect.  Thus  all  things  were  turned 
upside  down— the  criterion  of  personal  merit,  and  the 
general  idea  of  what  is  happy  or  desiraljle  in  life. 

Two  things  now  remain  for  us  to  consider— the  rise 
of  language,  and  the  rise  of  religion,  both  of  which 
were  wanting  to  the  earliest  races  of  men. 

As  to  language  Lueretiu';.  the  popular  notion 

that  it  was  invented  by  some  particular  man,  who  ut  a 
certain  time  invented  a  name  for  evirv  thine:,  is  nothine: 
but  sheer  folly.  For  "why,"  he  asks,  "should  this 
particular  man  be  able  to  denote  all  things  by  words, 
and  to  utter  the  various  sounds  of  the  tongue,  and  yet 
at  the  same  time  others  be  supposed  not  to  have  been 
able  to  do  so?  Again,  if  others,  as  well  as  he,  had  not 
made  use  of  words  amongst  themselves,  whence  was 
implanted  in  this  man  the  previous  conception  of  its 
use?  or  IW}^  C<^"^d  one  man  constrain  qnd  force  many 


BCIENTTFTC  SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS.    75 


to  learn  the  names  of  things,  or,  when  learnt,  to  use 
them?"     Far  from   having   been  taught  in  this  way, 
language  shaped  itself  slowly,  and  in  the  most  ordinary 
course  of  nature.     "Nature  impelled  men  to  alter  the 
various  sounds  of  the  tongue,  and  use  struck  out  the 
names  of  things,  much  in  the  same  way  as  the  inability 
to  speak  is  seen  to  drive  some  children  to  the  use  of 
gestures,  when  it  forces  them  to  point  with  the  finger 
at  the  things  that  are  before  them."    Nor  is  there  any- 
thing strange  in  this,  "  since  dumb  brutes,"  says  Lucre- 
tius, "and  wild  beasts,  are  accustomed  to  give  forth 
distinct  and  varied  sounds,  when  they  have  fears  and 
pains,  and  when  joys  are  rife."    Thus  dogs  give  quite 
distinct   barks,  when  enraged,  or  when  feeding  their 
whelps,  or  when  giving  an  alarm  at  the  approach  of 
thieves.     The  same  is  the  case,  too,  with  all  other 
animals.     "Therefore,   if  different  sensations  compel 
creatures,   dumb  though    they  be,   to  utter    different 
sounds,  how  much  more  natural  is  it  that  men  in  those 
times  should  have  been  able  to  denote  dissimilar  things 
by  many  different  words?    Whilst  as  for  music  and 
poetry,  and  every  kind  of  musical  modulation,   this 
they  learnt  from  the  birds;  "whilst  the  whistlings  of 
the  zephyrs  through  the  hollow  reeds  first  taught  peas- 
ants to  blow  into  hollow  stalks." 

And  now,  in  conclusion,  let  us  see  what  the  Lucre- 
tian  account  is  of  the  rise  of  religion.  Man  at  first,  as 
has  been  observed  already,  he  says  explicitly,  had  no 
trace  of  it.  Modern  theorists  seek  its  origin  in  the 
wonder  of  early  man  at  the  phenomena  of  nature,  and 
lirst  amongst  these,  at  the  movements  and  effects  of 
the  sun.  This,  strangely  enough.  Lucretius  seems  to 
anticipate,  and  contradicts  explicitly.  "Never,"  he 
says,  "would  the  early  race  of  man  with  loud  wailing 


% 


LVCnETIUS. 


call  for  the  dayliglit  and  the  sun,  wandering  terror- 
stricken  over  the  lields  in  the  shadows  of  night,  hut 
silent  and  burietl  m  sleep  would  they  wait  till  the  sun 
with  rosy  touch  had  carried  light  into  heaven;  for,  ac- 
customed as  they  had  been  from  childhood  always  to 
see  darkness  and  night  begotten  in  succession,  never 
Svould  any  wonder  come  over  them,  nor  any  misgiving 
that  never-ending  night  would  cover  the  earth,  and  the 
liglit  of  the  sun  be  witlidrawn  for  evermore."  Reli- 
gion was  the  result,  Lucretius  thinks,  of  a  deliberate 
and  a  later-developed  kind  of  reflection,— though  he 
hardly  distinguishes  this  with  sufficient  clearness  from 
tlie  sort  of  wonder  he  here  denies  man  to  have  ex- 
perienced. In  time,  he  says,  men  observing  that  the 
system  of  heaven  and  tlie  seasons  came  round  in 
regular  succession,  tried  and  failed  to  find  out  by  what 
causes  this  was  brought  about;  and  at  length  were 
compelled  to  postulate  tlie  existence  of  gods,  to  whose 
action  these  phenomena  were  to  be  attributed. 

But  besides  this,  religion  had  another  origin  yet. 
"Men  would  see  in  waking  mind  glorious  forms,  and 
they  would  see  them  in  sleep  of  yet  more  marvellous 
size  of  body.  To  these  then  they  would  attribute 
sense,  because  they  seemed  to  move  their  limbs  and 
to  utter  lofty  words  suitable  to  their  glorious  aspect 
and  surpassing  powers.  And  they  would  give  them 
life  everlasting,  because  their  face  would  ever  appear 
before  them,  and  their  form  abide;  and  because  they 
could  not  believe  that  beings  possessed  of  such  powers 
would  lightly  be  overcome  by  any  force;  and  they 
would  be  pre-eminent  in  bliss,  because  none  of  them 
was  ever  troubled  with  the  fear  of  death,  and  because 
at  the  same  time,  in  sleep,  they  would  see  them  per- 


SCIENTIFIC  SYSTEM  OF  LUCRETIUS.    77 


form  many  miracles,  yet  feel,  ou  their  part,  no  fatigue 
from  the  effort." 

The  meaning  of  this  singular  passage  will  be  ex- 
plained if  we  remember  the  theory  of  wandering  films, 
or  images,  which  has  been  described  already,  and  will 
lead  us  up  to  Lucretius's  theology,  with  which  we  may 
fitly  close  our  account  of  his  scientific  system. 

The  glorious  forms  just  alluded  to  are  nothing  but 
wandering  films,— some  of  the  finer   sort,   only  per- 
ceived by  the  mind;  some  of  the  coarser  sort,  that 
excite  vision.     What,  then,  was  their  origin?    They  are 
not  things  that  have  no  such  counterpart.    They  have 
been  thrown  off  by  actual  bodies.    But  by  what  bodies? 
By  the  bodies  of  a  certain  race  of  beings  which,  with  a 
certain  amount  of  fitness,  may  be  called  gods,  as  being 
superior  in  happiness  and  in  beauty  to  ourselves,  but 
who  have  no  care  or  power  over  us  or  over  the  universe; 
and  who  are  just  as  much  a  product  of  the  collision  of 
atoms  as  it  or  we.     These  beings  dwell  in  the  spaces 
between  the  various  worlds  or  universes,— though  how 
they  can  breathe  there,  or  what  they  can  rest  on,  or  sub- 
Bist  on,  or  do  to  promote  their  supposed  enjoyment,  or 
what  shape  the  world  can  be  that  they  inhabit,  Lucretius 
does  not  tell  us.     There,  however,  he  suffers  them  to 
exist,— a  gratuitous  superstition  it  must  seem  to  us— a 
surviving  rudiment  of  a  former  system,  answering  no 
purpose  in  his  own,  and  only  introducing  into  it  in- 
congruity  and  difficulty.     And  not  only  does  he  suffer 
these  gods  to  exist,  but  some  of  the  films  thrown  off 
by  their  bodies  to  wander  hither  into  this  world  of  ours, 
and  to  delude  those  that  see  them  into  supposing  them 
to  be  the  actual  personal  presence  of  powers  that  guide 
and  have  formed  the  universe. 
We  have  now  ended  our  survey  of  the  scientific 


78 


L  UCRETTUS. 


system  that  Lucretius  wished  to  expound,  and  to  en- 
force upon  the  world.  We  will  now  go  on  to  take  a 
survey  of  the  poem  itself,  which  he  thought  the  fittest 
form  in  which  to  embody  it;  and  we  shall  then  see  not 
only  how"  he  handled  in  verse  a  thing  so  refractory  as 
his  main  subject,  but  what  were  the  sort  of  uses  lie 
designed  the  exphination  of  it  to  subserve,  and  his 
views  of  that  human  life  and  nature  which  he  w^as  so 
anxious  that  his  discoveries  should  illuminate. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


THE   POEM   OF   LUCRETIUS. 

"  Ay,  but  I  meant  not  thee ;  I  meant  not  her, 
Whom  ail  the  i)ines  of  Itla  shook  to  see 
Slide  from  that  quiet  heaven  of  hers,  and  tempt 
The  Trojan,  while  his  neat-herds  were  abroad; 
Nor  her  that  o'er  her  wounded  hunter  wept 
Her  Deity  false  in  human -amorous  tears; 
Nor  whom  her  beardless  apple-nrbiter 
Decided  fairest.     Rather.  O  ye  Gods, 
Poet -like,  as  the  i?reat  Sicilian  called 
Callioi>e  to  jrrace  his  polden  verse- 
Ay.  and  this  Kypris  also--did  I  take 
That  popiilai-  name  of  thine  to  shadow  forth 
The  all-f^eneratiii;,'  jt.nvers  and  penial  heat 
Of  Natiu-e.  when  she  strikes  througrh  the  thick  blood 
Of  cattle,  and  lipht  is  large.  an<i  lambs  are  plad 
Nosing  the  mother's  udder,  and  the  bird 
Makes  his  heart  voice  amid  the  blaze  of  flowers: 
Which  things  appear  the  work  of  mighty  Gods." 

—Tennyson,  "Lucretius," 


BOOK  I. 

The  poem  thus  begins: 

"Mother  and  mistress  of  the  Roman  race. 
Pleasure  of  gods  and  men.  O  fostering 

Venus,  whose  presence  breathes  in  every  place, 
Peophng  all  soils  whence  fruits  and  grasses  spring, 


THE  POEM  OF  L  UCRETIUS. 


79 


And  all  the  water's  navigable  ways, 

Water  and  earth  and  air  and  everything, 
Since  by  thy  power  alone  their  hfe  is  given 
To  all  beneath  the  sUding  signs  of  heaven; 

Goddess,  thou  comest.  and  the  clouds  before  the© 
Melt,  and  the  ruffian  blasts  take  flight  and  fly; 

The  da?ilal  lauds,  they  know  thee  and  adore  thee, 
And  clothe  themselves  with  sweet  flowers  instantly; 

Whilst  pouring  down  its  largest  radiance  o'er  thee, 
In  azure  calm  subsides  the  rounded  sky. 

To  overarch  thine  advent;  and  for  thee 

A  Uvelier  sunlight  laughs  along  the  sea. 

For  lo,  no  sooner  come  the  .soft  and  glowing 
Days  of  the  spring,  and  all  the  air  is  stirred 

With  amorous  breaths  of  zephyr  freshly  blowing, 
Thau  the  lirst  prelude  of  thy  power  is  heard 

On  all  sides,  in  aerial  music  flowing 
Out  of  the  bill  of  every  pairing  bird; 

And  every  son;;stri-  feels,  on  every  tree, 

Its  small  ht-art  pulsing  with  the  power  of  thee. 

Next  th(>  herds  feel  thee;  and  the  wild  fleet  races 
Bound  oVr  the  fields,  that  smile  in  the  bright  weather, 

And  swim  the  streaming  floods  in  fordless  places, 
Led  by  thy  chain,  and  captive  in  thy  tether. 

At  last  through  seas  and  hills,  thine  influence  passes, 
Through  field  and  flood  and  all  the  world  together. 

And  the  birds'  leafy  homes;  and  thou  dost  fire 

Each  to  renew  his  kiml  with  sweet  desire. 

Wherefore,  since  thou,  O  lady,  only  thou 
Art  she  who  guides  the  world  upon  its  way; 

Nor  can  aught  rise  without  tliee  anyhow 
Up  into  ilie  clear  borders  of  the  day, 

Neither  can  aught  without  thee  ever  grow 
Lovely  and  sweet— to  thee,  to  thee  I  pray— 

Aid  and  be  near  thy  suppliant  as  he  sings 

Of  nature  and  the  secret  ways  of  things." 

For  I  have  set  myself,  he  goes  on,  to  expound  these  as 
best  1  may  to  my  dear  friend,  the  son  of  the  Memmii, 


80 


LVCRKTWS. 


TEE  POEM  OF  LUCRETIUS. 


ei 


in  this  very  poem;  and  for  ray  affection  to  him,  I 
would  have  every  charm  given  to  my  verses.  And  do 
thou,  my  Mem  mi  us,  so  far  as  thou  canst  in  these  pres- 
ent troublous  times,  give  an  attentive  ear  to  me,  for  1 
am  going  to  explain  to  you  tlie  whole  system  of  things; 
and  out  of  wh:it  first  elements  the  world,  and  men,  and 
gods  have  all  alike  arisen.  I  have  a  teacher— Epicurus-- 
who  has  explained  all  these  things  to  me;  and  his 
teachings  when  first  given  to  men  made  a  new  era  in 
their  history. 

"  When  hiuimii  life,  a  shame  to  human  eyes, 

Lay  sprawling  in  the  mire  in  fovil  estate. 
A  cowfMin^'  thing  without  the  strength  to  rise. 

Held  down  by  fell  Religion's  heavy  weight— 
Keligion  scowling  downward  from  the  skies, 

With  hideous  head,  and  vigilant  eyes  of  hate- 
First  did  a  man  of  Greece  presume  to  raise 
His  brows,  and  giv»'  tlie  monster  gaze  for  gaze. 

Him  not  tlie  tales  of  all  the  gods  in  heaven, 
Nor  the  heaven's  lightniners,  nor  the  menacing  roar 

Of  thunder  daunted.    He  was  only  driven. 
By  these  vain  vauntings,  to  desire  the  more 

To  burst  through  Nature's  gates,  and  rive  the  unriven 
Bars     And  he  gaine«l  th^  day:  and,  conqueror. 

His  spirit  broke  beyond  our  world,  and  past 

Its  flaming  walls,  and  fathomed  all  the  vast. 

And  back  returning,  crowned  with  victory,  he 

Divulged  of  things  the  hidden  mysteries. 
Laying  quite  bare  what  can  and  cannot  be. 

How  to  each  force  is  set  strong  boundaries. 
How  no  power  raves  unchained,  and  nought  is  free. 

So  the  times  change;  and  now  religion  lies 
Trampled  by  us;  and  unto  us  'tis  given 
Fearless  with  level  gaze  to  scan  the  heaven. 
Yet  fear  I  lest  thou  haply  deem  that  thus 

We  sin,  and  enter  wicked  ways  of  reason. 
Whereas  'gainst  all  things  good  and  beauteoua 

'Tis  oft  religion  does  the  foulest  treason. 


»      ' 


Has  not  the  tale  of  Aulis  come  to  us. 

And  those  great  chiefs  who,  in  the  windless  season, 
Bade  young  Iphianassa's  form  be  laid 
Upon  the  altar  of  the  Trivian  maid? 

Soon  as  the  fillet  round  her  virgin  hair 
Fell  in  its  equal  lengths  down  either  cheek,— 

Soon  as  she  saw  her  father  standing  there. 
Sad,  by  the  altar,  without  power  to  speak. 

And  at  his  side  the  murderous  mmister, 
Hiding  the  knife,  and  many  a  faithful  Greek 

Weeping— her  knees  grew  weak,  and  with  no  sound 

She  sank,  in  speechless  terror,  on  the  ground. 

But  naught  availed  It  in  that  hour  accurst 
To  save  the  maid  from  such  a  doom  as  this, 

That  her  lips  were  the  baby  lips  that  first 
Called  the  king  father  with  their  cries  and  kiss. 

For  round  her  came  the  strong  men,  and  none  durst 
Refuse  to  do  what  cruel  part  was  his; 

So  silently  they  raised  her  up,  and  bore  her, 

All  quivering,  to  the  deadly  shrine  before  her. 

And  as  they  bore  her,  ne'er  a  golden  lyre 
Rang  round  her  coming  with  a  bridal  strain; 

But  in  the  very  season  of  desire, 
A  stainless  maiden,  amid  bloody  stain, 

She  died— ft  victim  felled  by  ifs  own  sire- 
That  so  the  ships  the  wishei  r..r  wind  might  gain, 

And  air  puff  out  their  canvas.    Learn  Ihou,  then, 

To  what  damned  deeds  religion  urges  men." 

Yes  (Lucretius  continues),  and  you  too,  Menunius, 
even  you,  will  some  time  or  other  seek  to  fall  away. 
and  cower  under  the  terrors  of  this  false  religion. 
And,  indeed,  what  safeguard  have  you?  How  will 
you  steel  yourself  against  the  terrors  of  the  priests, 
who  have  ever  a  life  to  come  with  which  to  threaten 
you,  and  in  which  torments  everlasting  may,  as  they 
say  be  yours?  Did  you  know  that  death  was  death 
indeed,  then  you  might  keep  a  stout  heart,  and  brave 


b  .laftaa.  ■  jhulhaiLitayMLkj  J'*  iHi::Jufe.!.v.>jirfji 


8« 


LVCRETirS. 


Ihem.  But  DOXY  what  do  men  know  of  the  soul? 
They  know  neither  its  nature  nor  its  origin— neith.-r 
whence  it  cjune  nor  wliilher  it  is  going.  How  shall 
they  know,  then,  what  may  not  br  in  >h.ie  for  itV 
What  shall  we  do  then?  Our  only  hoi»c*  U  in  this: 
Let  us  grasp  first  the  principles  of  things;  let  us  learn 
by  what  laws  the  stars  and  the  sun  move;  how  tin- 
earth  was  formed,  and  how  all  things  live  and  grow 
upon  it.  And  ab(»ve  all,  let  us  liud  out  by  reason  what 
the  soul  and  mind  consists  of.  and  what  an-  the  laws  of 
those  things  whenre  all  our  fears  arise— imauination. 
and  dreams,  and  madness. 

Hard  it  is  in  Latin  verses  to  expound  the  teachiii'js 
of  the  Greeks.  Our  tongue  is  poor  nnd  wanting.  N<> 
one  lias  used  it  yet  to  treat  such  then  'he-e.     And 

yet   for  your    sake,    and   the  [deasure    ^  'ir    sweet 

friendship,  I  will  not  be  daunted.     I  wiil  essay  to  do 

my  best. 

This  darkness,  then,  this  terrible  darkness,  in  which 
the  human  race  is  at  ])resent  cowering,  can  be  di^ 
pelled.  not  by  any  sunlighi,  nor  the  lucid  darts  of  day, 
but  by  the  aspect  and  the  law  of  N 

••  For  fear  takes  hold  upon  the  human  breast. 
When  we  see  many  thing's  by  Nature  done. 
Whereof  tlie  ways  and  means  are  known  to  none." 

And  accordingly  we  ascribe  these  phenomena  to  the 
gods.  One  thing,  therefore,  at  starting.  I  wiH  tell  you 
fii-st— how  that  nothing  can  be  produced  from  nothing. 
And  when  you  are  once  made  certain  of  that,  you 
shall  see  clearly  how  all  things  can  be  produced  and 
done  without  the  hand  of  gods. 

Lucretius  then  goes   on.   in   the  next  two  hundred 
verses,  to  explain  Ihaf  n\on^-         W  things  aro 


BlEJjIlHtiUMllSMiiJJflli'J^af.jVA^  J.'Kr!  ■irAKja^jB 


THE  POEM  OF  LUCRETIUS. 


83 


rdoms  and  void,  su{)porting  his  theory  by  arguments 
that  have  been  described  alreadv.  Atoms  and  void  are 
both  alike  eternal.  All  composite  things  may  pass 
away,  but  these  remain  from  everlasting.  Nothing  can 
be  born  from  nothing;  and  nothing,  when  born,  can 
go  back  to  nothing: 

"  Things  seem  to  die,  but  die  not.    The  spring  showers 
Die  on  tli.'  txtsmn  of  the  motherly  earth, 
But  risf  a^'uiii  in  fruits  ami  leaves  and  flowers, 
And  every  death  is  nt)thiug  but  a  birth." 

Atoms,  then,  and  empty  space,  he  goes  on — these, 
my  friends,  are  all  that  really  is.  You  can  name 
nothing  that  is  not  a  property  of  these,  or  else  an 
accident: 

"  That  is  a  property  which  cannot  be 

Disjointed  from  a  thing  and  separate 
Witliout  the  said  thing's  death.    Fluidity 

Is  thus  a  property  of  water;  weight 
Is  of  a  stone.    Whilst  riches,  poverty, 

Slaver\ .  fr«»e(loni.  concord,  war  and  hate. 
Which  clumge,  and  not  inhere  in  things  of  sense, 
We  name  not  properties,  but  accidents." 

The  Trojan  war,  for  instance,  w^as  simply  an  acci- 
dent of  atoms  and  empty  space;  nor,  but  for  these, 
would  it  ever  have  come  to  pass — 

"  For  had  things  no  material  substance  thus, 

Nor  void  to  move  in.  never  had  the  fire 
Out  of  the  fairest  cldld  of  Tyndarus 

Lit  in  the  Phrygian's  breast  the  fell  desire. 
And  put  the  torch  to  war;  nor  Pergamus 

Had  seen  the  dumb  and  lifeless  steed  draw  nigh  her, 
Ont  of  whose  flanks  the  nu'diiight  warriors  came, 
Who  ended  all,  and  wrapt  the  towers  in  flame." 

Remember  then,  I  again  tell  you,  that  here  are  the  two 
things  that  alone  really  are,  infinite  space  and  atoms — 


%nt 


LUCRETIUS. 


atoms  indivisible,  indestructible,  that  have  endured, 
and  that  will  endure  for  ever.  Wherefore,  they  who 
held  fire  to  be  the  one  substance  of  things,  and  the  sum 
to  have  been  formed  out  of  the  fire  alone,  are,  of  all 
philosophers,  furthest  from  the  truth.  Chief  of  this 
band  is  Heraclitus,  a  declarer  of  dark  sentences,  and  a 
Juggler  with  words. 

"More  famous  he  with  babbling  men  and  vain, 

Amongst  the  Greeks,  than  those  that  strive  to  know 

The  truth  indeed.    For  fools  are  always  fain 
To  measure  meanings  by  the  gaudy  show 

Of  twisted  words  that  hide  thera.    And  a  strain 
That  fills  their  ears  with  honeyed  overflow 

Of  phrase  and  music,  is  at  once  decreed 

Surely  to  hold  the  very  truth  indeed." 

Lucretius  then  goes  on  to  give  the  reasons  why  the 
theory  of  Heraclitus  is  untenable,  and  how  it  contra- 
dicts the  very  premises  that  he  himself  starts  with. 
Nor  any  wiser  are  those  who  hold  that  things  have 
four  first  beginnings,  though  some  of  those  who  have 
taught  this,  have  been  wise — wise  above  measure  in 

other  ways. 

"Chief  of  these 
Is  he  of  Agrigent,  Empedocles. 

Him  in  its  three-shored  bounds  that  isle  of  yore 
Reared,  which  the  wild  Ionian  water  laves, 

Round  curving  bays  and  headlands,  evermove 
Splashing  the  brine  up  out  of  its  green  waves. 

Here  does  the  racing  sea  withhold  the  shore 
Of  Italy;  and  here  Charybdis  raves; 

And  here  does  rumbling  ^tna  moan  and  strain 

For  strength  to  lighten  at  the  skies  again. 

Fair  Is  that  land,  and  all  mpn  hold  it  fair; 

Its  sons  who  puanl  its  soil  are  fierce  and  free. 
And  all  rich  things,  and  gladsome  things  are  there; 

Yet  nothing  ever  was  there,  nor  shall  be, 


THE  POEM  OF  LUCRETIUS.  85 

More  glorious  than  this  preat  philosopher- 
More  holy,  marvellous,  and  dear  than  he: 
Yea,  and  with  such  a  strength  his  mighty  line 
Shouts  through  the  earth— he  seems  a  voice  divine." 

And  yet,  says  Lucretius,  in  spite  of  all  this,  he  has 
gone  astray  about  the  first  beginnings  of  things,  as  did 
also  Anaxagoras  and  all  the  rest,  partly  from  their 
wrong  conceptions  of  matter,  partly  because  they 
denied  the  reality  of  empty  space.  And  all  these  faults 
of  theirs  he  points  out  in  a  way  that  we  have  already 

analyzed. 

And  now  mark  (he  goes  on)  what  remains  to  be 
known,  and  hear  it  more  distinctly.  For  my  mind 
does  not  fail  to  perceive  how  dark  these  things  are; 
but  yet,  despite  all  difficulties— 

"  Yet  my  heart  smarting  with  desire  for  praise. 

Me  urges  on  to  siug  of  themes  like  these, 
And  that  great  longing  to  pour  forth  my  lays 

Constrains  uie,  and  the  loved  Pierides, 
Whose  pathless  mountain-haunts  I  now  explore, 
And  glades  where  no  man's  foot  has  fallen  before. 

Ah  sweet,  ah  sweet,  to  approach  the  untainted  springs, 
And  quaff  the  virgin  waters  cool  and  clear, 

And  cull  the  flowers  that  have  been  unknown  things 
To  all  men  heretofore  1  and  yet  more  dear 

When  mine  shall  be  the  adventurous  hand  that  brings 
A  crown  for  mine  own  brows,  from  places  where 

The  Muse  has  deigned  to  grant  a  crown  for  none, 

Save  for  my  favored  brows,  and  mme  alone." 

Kor  am  I  vain,  Memmius.  in  such  vaunts  as  these;  for 
I  am  struggling  to  teach  great  things,  and  to  release 
the  human  mind  from  the  fetters  of  religious  fear;  and 
dark  as  my  subject  is.  my  song  is  clear  and  lucid,  and 
over  the  crabbed  things  I  teach,  I  lay  the  Muses 
charm. 


R6 


LCCIiETirs. 


THE  POEM  OF  L  UCRETIUS. 


87 


And  now  thus  far  I  have  taught  you  how  solid 
hodies  of  matter  fly  about  ever  unvauquished  through 
all  time.  I  have  next  another  thing  to  teach  you.  I 
must  show  you  there  is  no  limit  to  the  sum  of  these 
atoms,  and  likewise  that  there  is  no  limit  to  the  space 
they  move  in.  As  to  space,  I  need  but  ask  you,  how- 
can  that  be  bounded?  For  whatever  bounds  it,  that 
thing  must  itself  be  bounded  likewise;  and  to  this 
bounding  thing  there  must  be  a  bound  again,  and  so  on 
for  ever  and  ever  throughout  all  immensity.  Suppose, 
however,  for  a  moment,  all  existing  space  to  be  bounded, 
and  that  a  man  runs  forward  to  the  uttermost  borders, 
and  stands  upon  the  last  verge  of  things,  and  then 
hurls  forward  a  winged  javelin, --suppose  you  that  the 
dart,  when  hurled  by  the  vivid  force,  shall  take  its  way 
to  the  point  the  darter  aimed  at,  or  that  something  will 
take  its  stand  in  the  path  of  its  flight,  and  arrest  it? 
For  one  or  other  of  these  things  must  happen.  There 
is  a  dilemma  here  that  you  never  can  escape  from. 
Place  your  limit  of  things  as  far  away  as  it  shall  please 
you,  I  will  dog  your  steps  till  you  have  come  to  the 
utmost  borders,  and  I  will  ask  you  what  then  becomes 
of  your  javelin.  Surely  you  must  see  what  the  end  of 
this  must  be : 

"  The  air  bounds  off  the  hills,  the  hills  the  air; 

Earth  bounds  the  ocean,  ocean  bounds  the  lands; 
But  the  unbounded  All  is  everywhere." 

Lucretius  here  adds  various  other  proofs  of  the  in- 
finity of  empty  space,  and  the  infinite  number  of  the 
atoms,  all  of  which  have  been  already  stated.  Such 
then,  he  exclaims,  again  reiterating  his  teaching — 

**  Such  is  the  nature  then  of  empty  space. 
The  void  aboi'e,  beneath  us,  and  around. 
That  not  the  thunderbolt  with  pauseless  pace. 
Hurtling  for  ever  through  the  uiiplumbed  profound 


Of  time,  woiild  find  an  ending  to  its  race, 
i  Or  e'er  grown  nearer  to  the  boundless  bound. 

So  huge  a  room  around,  beneath,  above. 
Yawns,  in  which  all  things  being,  are  and  move." 

The  chance  to  which  our  world  owes  itself  needed 
infinite  atoms  for  its  production,  infinite  trials,  and 
infinite  failures,  before  the  present  combination  of 
tilings  arose. 

•'  For  blindly,  blindly,  and  without  design, 

Did  these  first  atoms  their  first  meetings  try; 

No  ordering  thought  was  there,  no  will  divine 
To  guide  them ;  but  through  iufinite  time  gone  by 

Tossed  and  tormented  they  essayed  to  join, 
And  clashed  through  the  void  space  tempestuously, 

Until  at  last  that  certain  whirl  began. 

Which  slowly  formed  the  earth  and  heaven  and  man." 

And  now  my  Memmius,  Lucretius  goes  on,  be  far 
from  trusting  those  that  say  all  things  press  towards 
the  centre,  and  that  there  are  men  beneath  the  earth, 
walking  with  their  heads  downwards.  For  the  uni- 
verse l)eing  infinite,  how  can  there  be  any  centre  to  it? 
And  even  grant  that  it  had  a  centre,  no  heavy  body 
could  abide  there;  for  everything  that  has  weight  must 
be  for  ever  and  for  ever  falling,  unless  some  rebound 
send  it  upw^ards. 

Space,  then,  I  have  already  proved  to  be  infinite; 
and  space  being  infinite,  matter  must  be  infinite  also; 
Jest,  after  the  winged  fashion  of  flame,  the  walls  of  the 
world  break  up  suddenly,  and  fly  along  the  mighty 
void,  and  the  heavens  fall  upon  the  earth,  and  the 
earth  break  up  from  beneath  the  heaven,  and  the  whole 
great  universe  in  a  single  moment 

"  Melt  and  be  gone,  and  nothing  take  its  place 
But.  vieviiess  atoms  and  deserted  space," 


88  LUCRETICd 


BOOK  II. 

The  second  book  opeus  thus: 

"  'Tis  sweet  when  tempests  roar  upon  the  sea 
To  watch  from  laud  auothers  deep  distress 

Amongst  the  waves-his  toil  and  misery: 
Not  that  his  sorrow  makes  our  happiness. 

But  tliat  vsome  s\veetn^-ss  rliere  must  ever  be 
Watching  what  sorrows  we  do  not  possess: 

So,  too.  'tis  sweet  to  safely  \'iew  from  far 

Gleam  oer  th'»  plain-*  the  savage  ways  of  war. 

But  sweeter  far  to  look  with  pui-ged  eyes 
Down  from  the  battlements  and  topmost  towers 

Of  learning,  those  high  bastions  of  the  wise. 
And  far  below  us  see  this  world  of  ours. 

The  vain  crowds  wandering  blindly,  led  by  lies, 
Spending  in  pride  and  wrangling  all  their  powers, 

So'far  below— the  pigmy  toil  and  strife, 

The  pain  and  piteous  rivah-ies  of  life. 

O  peoplrs  misKriibif.  < » luois  and  blind: 
What  night  you  cast  o'er  all  the  days  of  man, 

And  in  that  night  before  you  and  behind 
What  perils  jtrowl '     But  you  nor  will  nor  can 

See  that  the  tretisure  of  a  tranquil  mind 
Is  all  tliat  Nature  pleads  for,  for  this  span. 

So  that  between  our  birth  and  grave  we  gain 

Some  quiet  pleasures,  and  a  pause  from  pain. 

"Wherefore  we  see  tliat  for  the  body's  need 
A  pause  from  pain  almost  itself  suffices. 

For  only  let  our  life  from  pain  be  freed. 
It  oft  itself  with  its  own  smile  entices. 

And  fills  our  healthy  hearts  with  joys  indeed. 
That  leave  us  small  desire  for  art's  devices. 

Nor  do  we  sigh  for  more  in  hours  like  these. 

Rich  in  our  wealth  of  sweet  simplicities. 

'What  though  about  the  halls  no  silent  band 

Of  golden  boys  on  many  a  pedestal 
Dangle  their  hanging  lamps  from  outstretched  hand. 

To  tiare  along  the  midnight  festival— 


THE  POEM  OF  LUCRETlVS.  89 

[I  Though  on  our  board  no  priceless  vessels  stand, 

'  Nor  gold  nor  silver  fret  the  dazzUng  wall, 

Nor  does  the  soft  voluptuous  air  resound 
From  gilded  ceilings  with  the  cithern's  sound; 

The  grass  is  ours,  and  sweeter  sounds  than  these, 
As  down  we  couch  us  by  the  babbling  spring, 

And  overhead  we  hear  the  branching  trees 
That  shade  us,  whisper;  and  for  food  we  bring 

Only  the  country's  simple  luxuries. 
Ah.  sweet  is  this,  and  sweetest  in  the  spring. 

When  the  sun  goes  through  all  the  balmy  hours, 

And  all  the  green  earth's  lap  is  filled  with  flowers  I" 

These,  Memmius,    these  are  this  life's   true  enjoy 
ments;  not  the  seduciug  pleasures  given  by  wealth  and- 
art.     Will  you  get  rid  of  a  fever  more  quickly  if  you 
toss  under  a  purple  coverlet  than  under  the  blanket  of 
a  poor  raanV    Just  then  as  treasures,  and  high  birth, 
and  the  pomp  of  kiugly  power,  minister    nothing  to 
the  body's  health,  push  thy  thought  but  a  small  step 
further  and  you  will  see  ihey  minister  nothmg  to  the 
mind   also:   unless,   indeed,  you  find  that  looking  on 
the  proud  array  of  war,  and  the  strength  of  obedient 
Wions,  your  mind  grows  and  swells  with  a  haughtier 
strength  also,  and  the  scruples  of  religion  are  at  once 
scared  avvav  from  it,  and  the  fears  of  death  grow  faint 
as  you  realize  your  own  power  and  greatness.     But  if 
^ve*see  that  to  talk  like  this  is  folly,  and  that  the  fear 
of  death  cares  nothing  for  human  arms  and  armies,  but 
that  it  and  all  other  sorrows  stalk  menacing  and  un- 
abashed through  courts  and  palaces,  and  flinch  nothing 
at  the  glitter  of  gold  and  purple,  how  can  you  doubt 
but  that  reason  alone  can  daunt  them?    For  what  is  all 
this  life  of  ours?    It  is  a  struggle  in  the  dark,  and  m 
this  dark  men  are  as  children.     They  quake  and  quiver 
at  tUey  know  not  what,  and  start  aside  at  objects  which 


U  nat.jJj'ju^Mj  wadMi.  ..-it-  jutahv  ■ 


m 


L  UCRETIUS. 


in  the  daylight  Ihey  would  only  laugh  at.  Light  then. 
more  light, —this  is  the  thing  we  need  for  the  liberation 
of  man;  but  it  is  not  outer  light,  it  is  the  inner  light  of 
reason — 

*'  Of  reason  searching  Nature's  secret  way, 
And  not  the  sun,  nor  lucid  darts  of  day." 

And  now  mark,  and  I  will  explain  to  you  the  mo- 
tions of  the  bodies  of  matter:  how  things  are  begotten 
and  broken  up  again,  and  with  wliat  speed  they  go 
moving  through  the  great  void.  For  verily  in  move- 
ment all  things  about  us  are  perpetually  wearing  away, 
perpetually  re-begotten.  Some  nations  wax,  others 
wane,  and  in  a  brief  space  the  races  of  living  things 
are  changed,  and,  like  runners,  hand  over  the  Xamp  of 
life. 

Here  Lucretius  goes  on  to  explain  more  in  detail  the 
everlasting  motion  of  the  atoms,  the  way  they  strike, 
the  way  they  rebound,  and  the  ways  in  which  they  l>e- 
come  intertangled.  They  move,  he  says,  as  the  motes 
move  in  a  sunbeam,  which  you  may  see  streaming 
through  a  dark  chamber,  and  in  the  apparent  void 
mingle  in  the  light  of  the  rays,  and,  as  in  never-ending 
conflict,  skirmish  and  give  battle,  combating  in  troops 
and  never  halting,  driven  about  in  frequent  meetings 
and  partings,  so  that  you  may  guess  from  this  what  it 
18  for  first  beginnings  of  things  to  be  forever  tossing 
about  in  the  great  void.  So  far  as  it  goes,  a  small 
thing  may  give  an  illustration  of  a  great  thing,  and  put 
you  on  the  track  of  knowledge. 

Now  how  swiftly  these  atoms  move,  Memmius,  you 
may  learn  from  this: 

*'  When  first  the  morning  sprinkles  earth  with  light, 
And  In  the  forest's  lone  heart  everywhere 
The  birds  awaken,  and  with  fluttering  flight 
Four  out  their  flutiugs  on  the  tender  air;" 


THE  POEM  OF  LUCRETIUS. 


91 


—at  such  a  time  we  see  how  in  a  moment,  in  a  single 
moment,  the  sun,  fnr  off  thoui^h  he  be,  darts  his  light 
through  the  whole  creation,  and  clothes  everything 
with  his  brightness.  But  the  sUn's  rays  have  to  travel 
through  air,  and  the  air  retards  their  course;  and  there- 
fore they  move  slowly  when  compared  with  the  atoms, 
which  move  only  througii  pure  and  empty  space,  and 
which  hurry  on  and  on,  not  held  back  by  anything. 

But  some,  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  matter,  say  that 
Avithout  the  providence  of  the  gods  the  world  could 
not  have  come  to  be  what  it  has,  nor  the  seasons  vary 
in  such  nice  conformity  to  the  ways  of  men.  Wan- 
derers they  from  the  true  course  of  reason.  For  even 
if  I  did  not  know  what  first  beginnings  were,  I  cowld 
still  maintain  that  the  earth  and  heaven  were  never 
the  work  of  any  divine  intelligence,— so  great  are  the 
defects  with  which  they  stand  encumbered.  All  which, 
Memmius,  I  will  by-and-by  make  clear  to  you;  but  we 
will  now  go  on  to  explain  what   is  yet  to  be  told  of 

motions. 

Lucretius  now  goes  on  to  deal  with  the  primary 
downward  tendency  of  atoms,  and  to  account  for  the 
upward  courses  they  take,  through  blows  and  rebound- 
ings,  and  being  squeezed  upwards  out  of  solidifying 
substances.  Next  he  explains  that  uncertain  sideways 
movement,  which  is  the  one  respect  in  which  the  uni- 
formity of  atomic  movement  is  broken,  and  which  he 
here  proclaims  to  be  the  origin,  and  the  only  possible 
origin,  of  the  free-will  of  living  beings. 

Then  he  goes  on  to  explain  that  the  laws  of  maUer 
have  been  the  same  for  ever;  that  it  is  the  nature  of 
matter  to  be  for  ever  moving;  and  that  though  things 
seem  to  be  now  at  rest,  their  atoms  are  still  as  unresting 
as  they  were  at  the  beginning.    Nor  need  you  wonder 


n 


lA  rui-TlVs. 


THE  POEM  OF  LUCRETIUS 


98 


at  this,  lie  says;  for  \v hen  niighly  legions  fill  iu  llu-ir 
courses  all  the  places  of  the  plains,  in  the  inimicry  of 
war.  the  glitter  of  them  lifts  itself  up  to  the  sky,  and 
the  whole  earth  about  glitters  with  brass,  and  a  noise 
is  made  beneath  by  the  trampling  of  the  mighty  ones 
and  the  mountains  smitten  by  the  shouting  hurl  the 
voices  upward  to  the  stars  of  licaven,  and  all  the  wheel- 
ing horsemen  scour  the  plains,  and  make  them  tremble 
with  the  charge: 

"Yet  some  place  is  there  in  the  far-oflf  hills 
Whence  all  this  storm  of  chargers  seems  to  rest. 
A  still  light  brooding  on  the  broad  plain's  breast." 

Lucretius  now  goes  on  to  show  that  the  atoms  must 
be  of  various  shapes,  the  kinds  of  things  produced  by 
them  are  so  different, — fluids,  solids  and  airs,  tastes  and 
smells.  Were  not  the  seeds  of  different  shapes,  and 
each  special  substance  made  of  special  seeds,  how  could 
the  species  of  animals  remain  alike,  and  never  vary? 
or  how  could  parent  transmit  to  child  that  special 
something  by  which  the  two  mutually  recognize  each 
other?  For  this  we  see  that  even  the  beasts  can  do; 
and  they  are  just  as  well  known  to  each  other  as  humai* 
beings  are. 

"Thus  oft  before  our  pillared  sanctuaries, 
Whi-n  tlie  lit  altars  lift  their  fragrant  blaze, 

A  calf  pours  forth  its  warm  life's  blood,  and  dies; 
But  she,  the  mother,  in  her  lone  amaze 

Goes  through  the  fields,  and  still  can  recognize 
Her  own  one's  cloven  footfalls  in  the  ways. 

And  looks  to  find  it,  and  her  eyes  grow  wild 

With  wondering  for  her  unreturning  child. 

Then  from  her  mouth  breaks  forth  the  desolate  moan 
Through  all  the  leafy  groves,  and  she  gives  o'er 

Her  search,  only  she  oft  goes  back  alone 
To  that  bleak  stall  her  child  shall  know  no  more; 


Nor  tender  willows,  nor  lush  grasses  grown 

Sweet  with  the  dew- fall,  nor  clear  streams  that  pour 
With  brimming  lips  their  waves  along  the  plain, 
Can  tempt  her  mouth,  nor  ease  her  breast  of  pain." 

Bemember  then,  says  Lucretius,  that  the  atoms  have 
various  shapes;  but  the  number  of  such  shapes  is  finite, 
though  of  atoms  of  each  shape  the  number  must  be 
infinite:  for  since  the  difference  of  shape  is  finite, 
those  Which  are  like  are  infinite,  or  the  sum  of  matter 
will  be  finite.  All  this  he  draws  out  at  length,  urgmg 
all  the  arcruments  that  have  been  described  already. 

And  thus,  he  says,  out  of  infinite  matter,  and  through 
infinite  space,  things  as  they  are  continue,  for  ever 
being  destroyed  and  for  ever  again  renewed ;  nor  can 
death-dealing  motions  keep  the  mastery  always,  nor 
entomb  existence  for  evermore,  nor.  on  the  other  hand, 
can  the  birth  and  increase-giving  motions  of  things  pre- 
serve them  always  after  they  are  born. 

"  Thus  from  the  depths  of  all  eternity 

The  unwearying  atoms  wage  a  dubious  war; 

And  now  with  surging  life  doth  victory  lie, 
And  now  anon  is  death  the  conqueror; 

And  with  the  funeral  wail,  the  baby's  cry 
Blends,  as  it  opes  its  eyes  on  daylight's  shore: 

Nor  ever  morning  broke  that  failed  to  hear      ^ 

The  infant's  bleatings  and  the  mourner's  tear. 

And  herein,  Memmius,  it  is  most  fit  you  should  re- 
member that  there  is  nothing  that  is  known  by  sense 
Tarconsists  of  one  kind  of  seed;  all  is  formed  by  a 
mixture  of  divers  atoms.  And  when  a  thing  has  mat.y 
properties,  you  must  know  it  is  a  compound  of  seeds  of 
many  Bhapes.  Such  a  compound  is  the  great  earth  we 
Tve  on  for  her  properties,  as  we  can  all  see,  are  many^ 
For  she  brings  forth  fires,  and  the  great  seas  and 
Trops  and  joyous  trees,  and  the  bodies  of  livmg  th.ngs, 


-,  ^W>f  ?-*ttat-^»f jLlL'flJIto  J..  .JA    uh  .  t JIU*uii 


:553ii3 


■g^-B 


94 


I 


LUCRETIUS. 


THE  POEM  OF  LUCRE! lUS. 


95 


Wherefore,  of  gods,  and  men,  and  beasts,  she  ;.1 --r^  has 
been  named  the  mother.     Of  her  the  Greek  nou.  ...a- 
that   borne  on  her  towering  chariot,  she  comes  (h  ivim^ 
a  yoke  of  lions.    They  have  yoked  to  Iier  car  the  hea.ts° 
to  show  that  nature,  howev,  r  ^avacrc.  sliould  be  sofr' 
ened  f)y  the  care  of  parents.     Thev  have  crowned  her 
head  with  a  mural  crown,  l>ecanse,  fortified  in  strong 
positions,  she  sustains  eities.      Phrygian  har-ds  esc<.n 
her.  for  in  Phrygia  tlie  story  is  that  the  first  co,„  ^rew 
and  Galli,  too.  are   her  guardians,   to   show  that^hey 
who  have  done  violence  to  the  divinity  of  the  mother 
are  unworthy  to  bring  a  living  offspring  to  the  daylight! 

"The  tig:ht  stretched  timhrel<;  fhundor  roinul  her  way 
The  sounding  cy ni  bals  clash,  and  crv  Prepare :       ' 

The  threatening,'  horns  with  tir.arser  music  bray, 
And  hollow  pipes  are  loud  upon  the  air; 

And  swonls  are  l.orne  before  her.  .sharp  to  slay- 
Emblems  of  rape  to  thankless  smd.s  that  dare 

Negrlect  the  Que*^n:  til]  holv  f...'ir  has  birth 

Of  the  great  3rother  over  all  the  rarth. 

Therefore  when  first  she  slowly  comes  progressing 
Through  mi?hty  cities,  and  with  soundless  ton<nie 

Breathes  over  men  the  dumb  rmworrled  blessing" 
Down  in  her  path  are  brass  and  siiv.r  flime. 

A  bount'-ous  largess,  mortal  thanks  e.\  ^». 

And  flowers  are  showered  by  all  the  a.u.nng  ihrong 

Till  on  the  M..th.>r  and  her  train  there  falls 

A  snowstorm  of  soft-setthng  rose-petals." 

But  all  tliiB  escort  and  proirress  are  onlv  svmholism 
It  IS  heantifnlly  told  and  well  .set  forth,  bnt;  it  is  very 
far  removed  from  tru^.  n.     For  the  natnre  of  the 

gods  must  enjoy  supreme  repose,  and  know  neither 
care  or  labor;  for  no  pain  mars  it.  nor  cm  au-d.t  we  do 
appease  it  or  make  it  amrry.  Aud  if  anv  one'choose  to 
call  the  sea  Neptune,  and  corn  Ceres,  and  would  rather 


use  the  word  Bacchus  tlian  the  word  wine,  let  us  suffer 
him  to  say  in  this  sense  tliat  the  earth  is  mother  of  gods, 
if  he  only  foriiears  in  earnest  to  sully  his  soul  with  the 
stain  of  foul  religion. 

"  For  all  this  while  the  earth  is  blind  and  dumb, 

It  neither  knows,  nor  thinks,  nor  hears,  nor  feels. 
But  blindly  in  it  various  seeds  unite, 
And  blindly  these  break  forth,  and  reach  the  light." 

But  though  all  things,  Lucretius  goes  on,  are  composed 
of  many  seeds,  it  is  evident  that  these  combinations  fol- 
low some  laws,  and  only  certain  set  combinations  are 
possible  by  the  nature  of  things.  The  uniformity  of 
nature  shows  us  this;  and  you  may  learn  it,  too,  from 
considering  what  the  atoms  are  themselves.  You  must 
know,  too,  that  first  beginnings  have  themselves  no 
sensible  qualities.  In  especial,  you  must  remember 
that  they  are  without  color.  Lucretius  gives  many  rea- 
sons  for  this,— more  particularly,  that  color  cannot 
exist  witliout  light,  and  that  it  varies  according  to  what 
w^ay  the  light  falls  upon  it. 

"After  this  fashion  does  the  ringdove's  down 
Change  in  the  sun,  and  shift  its  plumy  sheen; 

Now  all  a  poppy's  dark  vermilion, 
Now  coral,  glimmering  over  emerald  green. 

So  too  the  peacock,  saturate  with  sun 
O'er  all  its  sweep  of  trailing  tail,  is  seen 

To  quiver  in  the  liixht  with  \arying  dyes. 

And  all  the  hues  iucuustant  iu  its  eyes." 

And  now  Lucretius  goes  on  with  his  reasons  why 
atoms  cannot  have  either  voice,  or  smell,  or  sense,  or 
any  sensible  qualities  whatsoever.  Life  has  arisen  out 
of  the  lifeless,  :.s  we  see  even  now  worms  arising  out  of 
clods,  though  .n  the  case  of  the  higher  animals  the  life- 
less matter  has  to  go  through  many  stages;  and  only 
through  special    combinations  of  circumstances  can  it 


wSbiii 


96 


L  UCRKTIVS. 


t'o   '    ^ 


at  last  break  forth  into  life  and  consciousness.  But  if 
any  one  sliall  say  that  sense  may  be  so  far  begotten  out 
of  no  sensation,  by  a  process  of  change,  or  by  a  kind  of 
birth,  all  we  have  to  show  to  such  a  man  is,  that  this 
change  and  birth  can  only  happen  in  obedience  to  fixed 
laws,  and  under  fixed  conditions.  Above  all,  the 
senses  cannot  exist  in  any  body,  till  the  living  nature 
of  that  body  has  been  begotten;  for  till  then,  the  atoms 
that  will  make  up  the  principles  of  life  and  feeling  are 
wandering  far  and  wide— in  air  and  earth,  in  flowers 
and  trees  and  rivers.  Common-sense  will  tell  you  that 
all  this  must  be  so.  For  did  the  atoms  live,  what  then? 
Think  of  the  picture  you  would  have  to  form  of  them. 

*•  Sure,  had  they  life,  these  seeds  of  things,  why  then 
Each  separate  particle  would  laugh  and  ciy 
By  its  small  self,  and  speculate  like  men— 
'  What  were  ray  own  first  seeds,  and  whence  am  I?'  " 

Wherefore   be  assured,  Memmius,  that  we  have  all 
arisen  out  of  lifeless  things— 

"And  leara 
That  what  of  us  was  taken  from  the  dust 
Will  surely  one  day  to  the  dust  return ; 
And  what  the  air  has  lent  us,  heaven  will  bear 
Away,  and  render  back  its  own  to  air." 

For  death  is  not  an  extinction  of  matter,— it  is  a  change 
and  a  dissolution  only.  The  atoms  are  like  the  letters 
of  an  alphabet,  for  ever  shifting  their  places,  and  clus- 
tering into  new  words,  and  these  words  again  cluster- 
ing  into  new  verses. 

And  now.  we  entreat  you,  apply  your  mind  to 
reason.  For  a  new  matter  struggles  earnestly  to  gain 
your  ears;  and  remember  this,  that  the  simplest  thing, 
if  new,  is  at  first  hard  to  be  realized;  and  the  hardest 
thing  grows  easy  when  we  have  known  it  long  enough. 


4 


I  « 


I 


\U^ 


THE  POK}f  OF  LUCRETIUS 


97 


P 


ipU' 


'*  Lift  up  your  eyes,  consider  the  blue  sky, 
And  all  the  multitudes  oH  wandeiing  sigus 
It  holds  within  its  hollows;  mark  on  high 
How  shines  the  sun,  and  how  the  clear  moon  shines. 

Supposing  this  great  vision  suildenly 

Broke  on  the  gaze  of  man,  my  soul  divines 
That  to  the  astonished  nations  it  would  seem 
A  mist,  a  fancy,  a  desire,  a  dream." 

And  yet  how  little,  it  is  so  familiar,  do  we  now  heed 
it!  Wonder  not,  therefore,  if  I  lead  your  spirit  on  a 
further  and  a  more  adventurous  voyage,  and  carry  you 
past  the  w^alls  of  heaven  and  the  bounding  blue,  and 
show  you  what  is  there,  far  yonder,  in  the  bottomless 
unplumbed  depths,  to  which  the  spirit  ever  yearns 
to  look  forward,  and  to  which  the  mind's  inner  self 
reaches  in  free  and  unhindered  flight.  There  then,  in 
the  space  beyond,  where  the  atoms  are  for  ever  flying, 
are  other  worlds  than  ours,  woven  as  ours  was  out  of 
flying  atoms,  and  the  blind  clash  of  them.  Our  uni- 
verse is  but  one  out  of  a  countless  number.  As  a  man 
is  but  one  amongst  many  men,  so  is  our  universe  but 
one  amongst  many  universes.  And  through  all  these 
runs  a  single  law.  They  have  risen  in  the  same  way, 
they  are  sustained  in  the  same  way;  nnd  in  the  same 
way,  and  by  a  like  necessity,  they  will  all  one  day  pei^ 
ish.  Do  but  realize  this,  and  the  whole  scheme  or 
things  will  grow  clearer  to  you,  and  you  will  see  how — 

'*  Rid  of  her  haughty  masters,  straight  with  ease 
Does  nature  work,  and  willingly  sustains 

Her  frame,  and  asks  no  aid  of  deities. 
For  of  those  holy  gods  who  haunts  the  plains 

Of  Ether,  and  for  aye  abide  in  Deace, 
I  ask,  could  such  as  they  aw  hold  the  reiua 

Of  all  the  worlds,  or  in  their  courses  keep 

The  forces  of  the  immeasurable  deep? 


H^WWRffiSfSSS-' 


i^  LUCRETIUS. 

Whose  are  the  hands  could  make  the  stars  to  roll 
Through  all  their  courses,  and  the  fruitful  clod 

Foster  the  while  with  sunlight,  always  whole, 
A  naultiplied  but  undivided  god; 

And  strike  with  bellowing  thunders  from  the  pole, 
Now  his  own  temples,  now  the  unbend -ng  sod; 

And  now  in  deserts  those  vain  lightnings  try 

That  strike  the  pure,  and  pass  the  guilty  by?" 

Aud  this  too,  Memniius,  you  must  know  as  well.  Each 
of  these  countless  universes  has  growu  from  small  (o 
greater,  and  the  bulk  of  them  hiis  been  added  to  by 
seeds  dropped  down  upon  them  out  of  the  boundless 
space;  and,  in  like  manner,  they  are  diminished  and 
divided,  for  their  seeds  get  loose,  aud  the  boundless 
space  receives  them  back  again.  And  us  plants  and 
animals  are  born,  increase  in  stature  and  in  strength, 
and  then  wax  old  and  die,  so  is  it  with  the  worids  also. 
And  this  world  of  ours,  as  many  a  sign  shows  us,  is  now 
well  stricken  in  years,  and  the  time  of  its  dissolution 
is  drawing  nigh.  With  each  return  of  its  reasons  its 
strength  gets  more  feeble.  Once  goodly  crops  and 
grasses  sprang  from  the  teeming  soil  without  labor. 
Now,  labor  as  we  will,  but  a  scant  reward  is.  yielded. 
And  now  the  aged  ploughman  shakes  his  Iiead,  and 
sighs  to  think  of  the  earth's  exuberance  in  the  days 
when  he  was  young.  Aud  tl*e  sorrowful  planter  com- 
plains of  his  shrivelled  vines,  and  wearies  heaven  with 
liis  prayers,  and  comprehends  not  that  all  things  .are 
gradually  wasting  away,  m\d  passing  to  tlie  grave,  quite 
worn  out  by  age  and  length  of  days. 

BOOK  III. 

Lucretius  opens   this   book  with    an    invocation  to 
Epicurus,  his  revered  master 


f 


»      -  t 


THE  POEM  OF  L  UCRETIUS. 

"  Thou  who  wert  first  in  drowning  depths  of  night 
To  lift  aloft  so  clear  a  lamp,  whose  rays 

Strike  along  life,  and  put  the  shades  to  flight— 
Thee,  thee,  chief  glory  of  the  Grecian  race, 

I  strive  to  follow,  humbly  and  aright. 
And  my  feet  in  thy  very  footprints  place; 

Not  that  thy  rival  I  would  dare  to  be, 

But  that  I  love,  and  loving  follow  thee. 

Thy  rivar :    Nay:  can  swallows  rival  swans? 

Or  thunder-footed  steeds  competitors 
Find  'mongst  the  she-goat's  gamb'ling  little  ones? 

Oh,  first  aud  best  of  all  discoverers. 
We  are  but  bees  along  the  flowery  lawns, 

Who  rifle  for  our  food  thy  fields  of  verse, 
Aad  on  thy  golden  maxims  pause  and  prey— 
All-gold,  and  worthy  to  endure  for  aye. 

For  lo!  no  sooner  does  thy  powerful  line 
Loud  through  the  world  the  scheme  of  Nature  sing, 

Than  the  mind  hears,  and  at  that  note  of  thine 
Its  flocks  of  phantom  terrors  take  to  wing. 

The  world's  walls  roll  apart,  and  I  divine 
With  opened  eyes  the  ways  of  everything. 

And  how  through  Nature's  void  immensity 

Things  were  not,  were,  and  are,  and  cease  to  b«. 

And  lo:  the  gods  appear,  the  immortal  races, 

Visible  in  the  lucent  windless  air 
That  fills  their  quiet  blest  abiding-places, 

Wliieh  never  noisy  storm  nor  storm-clouds  dare 
To  trouble,  where  the  frost's  tooth  leaves  no  traces, 

And  downwards  no  white  falhng  snowflakes  fare, 
But  on  their  lips  the  laughters  never  cease, 
Nor  want  nor  pain  invades  their  ageless  peace. 

But  on  the  other  hand  we  search  in  vain. 

For  those  swart  forms,  the  fearful  deities 
Of  Hell.    Our  vision  roams  the  whole  inane, 

But  aught  like  Acheron  it  nowhere  sees. 
And  I,  when  I  to  this  high  view  attain. 

Feel  on  my  soul  a  maddening  rapture  seize, 
Aud  next  a  trembling,  that  thy  hand  should  dare 
Thus  to  the  quick  to  lay  all  Nature  bare  " 


99 


100 


LUCBETIUS. 


TEE  POEM  OF  LUCRETIUS.  101 


Aud  now,  says  Lucretius,  since  I  have  shown  wliat 
atoms  are,  their  number,  their  shape,  and  tlieir  nioiions, 
and  how  all  things  can  be  produced  out  of  ihcni.  I  will 
next  reveal  the  nature  of  the  mitid  and  soul,  that  Ihe 
dream  of  Acheron  may  be  once  anti  all  dispelled, 
which  at  present  troubles  life  to  its  inmost  depth,  casts 
a  chill  aud  deathly  shade  over  our  whole  existence, 
liiid  leaves  a  taint  and  a  bilteriies>  in  cvny  pleasure. 
True  it  is  that  we  often  hear  men  vaiiui  liial  they  have 
no  fear  of  deatb,  and  that  the  ills  and  haniships  of  life 
arc  all  they  really  tlineh  from.  But  thes<-  are  merely 
boasters.  Bring  them  into  any  trouble*  or  danger,  and 
you  will  see  liow  they  betake  theni>elves  to  their  knees, 
whining  to  their  gods,  and  forgetful  of  all  their  bravery. 
Such  fearless  tirmness  as  tiiese  men  feigu  to  have,  can 
Ije  given  only  by  knowledge  and  calm  reason.  Listen 
to  me,  then,  aud  1  will  lead  you  to  it: 

"First,  then.  I  say  the  mind,  which  often  we 
Call  also  understanding,  wherein  dwells 

The  power  that  rules  our  whole  vitality, 
Is  part  of  man,  as  is  wliatever  else 

Goes  to  make  up  his  frame,  as  hands,  feet,  knees; 
Nor  is  it,  us  a  foolish  Greek  school  tells, 

A  harmony  of  all  the  men-!  i>read 

As  health  is,  t-very  wliere  from  teet  to  head." 

But  it  resides  in  one  particidar  i)lace,  just  as  sight, 
hearing,  and  smell  do.  Lucretius  here  goes  on  in  detail 
to  explain  the  nature  of  the  mind,  how  it  is  connected 
with  the  vital  soul,  and  how  the  two  are  connected  w  iili 
the  body,  how  they  govern  it  aud  are  contained  by  it, 
how  the  former  is  seated  in  the  heart,  and  how  the 
latter  pervades  the  whole  frame.  He  then  describes 
how  the  mind  touches  the  soul  and  moves  it,  and  liow 
the  soul  in  its  turn  touches  the  bodv;  and  from  this  he 


*  1        * 


•  t         • 


argues  that  they  must  of  necessity  be  corporeal,  fof 
where  there  is  no  corporeality,  there  is  no  touch.  With 
first  beginnings,  then,  he  says,  interlaced  from  their 
earliest  birth,  are  mind  aud  body  fashioned,  and  gifted 
with  a  life  of  joint  partnership;  and  it  is  plain  that  the 
faculty  of  the  body  and  of  the  mind  cannot  feel  sepa- 
rately, each  alone  without  the  power  of  the  other,  but 
sense  is  kindled  throughout  our  flesh  and  blown  into  a 
flame  between  the  two,  by  joint  motions  on  the  part  of 
boili. 

And  now  (he  goes  on)  I  will  show  you  that  mind  and 
soul  are  mortal;  and  in  what  I  have  now  to  say,  remem 
ber  that  I  still  use  the  words  mind  and  soul  iud^fferenllv, 
aud  that  what  I  say  of  the  one  will  apply  in  the  same 
way  to  the  other,  since  both  make  up  one  thing,  and  are 
one  single  substance.  First  of  all,  then,  remember  of 
how  fine  a  substance  I  have  sho  wu  the  soul  to  be,  and 
how  far  more  sensitive  than  any  other  thing,— 

"  More  than  a  drifting  smoke,  or  ductile  river; 

For  even  shapes  of  mists  and  smoke  in  dreams, 
Soon  as  they  touch  the  mind  will  make  it  quiver, 

As  when  in  sleep  the  votive  altar  steams 
Before  our  sight;  for  even  dreams  like  these 
Come  from  the  touch  of  films  and  images." 

Well,  then,  since  you  see  that  water  is  scattered  when 
the  vessel  that  held  it  is  broken,  and  the  mists  melt 
away  into  the  air,  how  can  you  doubt  that  the  soul  will 
one  day  do  likewise  when  its  body  goes  to  pieces? 
Again,  we  see  that  the  mind  is  born  with  the  body, 
grows  strong  with  the  body,  and  also  with  the  body 
once  more  grows  frail  and  feeble: 

"  It  follows  then  that  when  this  life  is  past,  f 

It  goes  an  outcast  from  the  body's  door. 
And  dies  like  smoke  along  the  driving  blast. 


102 


LUCRETIUS. 


THE  PO/Or  OF  LUCBRTIUS. 


108 


We  with  the  flesh  beheld  it  born  and  rise 
To  strength;  and  with  the  flesh  it  fades  and  dies." 
And  now  consider  this  too.  Tlie  body  is  subject  to 
many  diseases,  and  with  many  of  tliese  the  soul  is 
affected  also.  Often  the  reason  wauilers.  often  the 
reason  is  for  a  time  quite  slain.  Such  1()>^  of  reason 
comes  from  the  powers  of  the  mind  and  soul  being 
dissevered,  and  riven  and  forced  asunder  by  the  same 
baneful  malady  as  the  body  is.  What  shall  we  thmk 
then? 

"Even  in  the  body  thus  the  soul  is  tioubJed, 

And  scarce  can  hold  its  flutterin-  frame  together; 
How  ehould  it      e  then,  when,  witli  foiv^-  redoubled. 
Naked  it  fee     the  air  ami  an-:-v  weaili.T?" 

Again,  Lucretius  goes  on  (after  having  added  a  number 
of  other  arguments  which  have  been  already  given  in  a 
former  chapter),  seeds  of  the  soul  are  evidently  left  in 
the  body  after  death,  because  worms  and  living  things 
are  bred  out  of  it.     And  a  soul  that  can  be  thus  divided 
cannot  be  immortal.     For  it  is  impossible  to  think  that 
each  of  these  worms  lias  an  immortal  soul  of  its  own, 
Ihat  immediately  at  the  birth  of  its  body  makes  its  way 
into  it,  and  that  thus  many  thousands  of  souls  nuei  to- 
gether in  a  place  from  which  one  has  l)een  withdrawn, 
and  either  find  bodies  ready  made  for  them,  or  set  each 
about  making  a   body   for  itself.      This   is  glaringly 
absurd ; 

"  For  why  should  souls,  if  they  can  cast  away 
Their  mortal  carcasses,  and  still  live  on. 
Thus  toil  to  build  themselves  a  den  of  clay? 

Since  when  with  bodies  they  are  clothed  upon 
They  straight  grow  heirs  to  sickness  and  decay, 
•  And  through  them  all  the  body's  >?rief  has  prone. 

Nor  for  themselves  could  souls  contrive  t.  >  build 
Such  priaon-pens,  how  much  soe%'r  tli»  y  vvillo<l  " 


i.li     < 


Lucretius  here  brings  forward  several  other  arguments, 
and  then  he  once  more  thus  returns  to  tliis  one: 

■Again,  whan  creatures'  bodies  are  preparing, 
Sure  we  sliould  laugh  to  see  the  souls  stand  by— 

Bands  of  immortals  at  each  other  glaring 
About  that  mortal  hou.se  in  rivalry. 

Each  louginu'  he  may  be  the  first  to  fare  in, 
And  each  braced  up  to  push  his  best  and  try. 

TD'nless  they  settle  it  on  this  condition. 

That  who  comes  first  shall  have  the  first  admission." 

Again,  if  more  arguments  are  still  needed,  for  every- 
thing there  is  a  fixed  place  appointed;  nor  do  fishes  live 
in  the  laud,  trees  in  the  clouds,  nor  the  sap  of  trees  in 
stones.  And  thus  the  nature  of  mind  cannot  come  into 
being  without  the  body,  nor  exist  away  from  it.  And 
therefore,  wlien  the  b<  dy  has  died,  we  must  admit  that 
the  soul  is  perished.  Every  argument  points  to  this 
conclusion.  We  cannot  doubt  it;  we  cannot  escape 
from  it.  Analogy,  observation,  and  common-sense,  all 
point  the  same  way,  and  confirm  us  in  a  complete 
certitude: 

*'  Death  is  for  us  then  but  a  noise  and  name. 

Since  the  mind  dies,  and  hurts  us  not  a  jot; 
And  as  in  l>ygone  times  when  Carthage  came 

To  battle,  we  and  oui-s  were  troubled  not, 
Nor  heeded  though  the  Avhole  earth's  shuddering  frame 

Reeled  with  the  stamp  of  armies,  and  the  lot 
Of  things  was  doubtful,  to  which  lords  should  fall 

The  land  and  seas  and  all  the  rule  of  all; 

So,  too,  wlien  we  and  ours  shall  be  no  more. 

And  there  has  come  the  eternal  separation 
Of  flesh  and  spirit,  whioh,  conjoined  before. 

Made  us  ourselves,  there  will  be  no  sensation; 
We  should  not  hear  were  all  the  world  at  war; 

Nor  shall  we,  in  its  last  dilapidation. 
When  the  heavens  fall,  and  earth's  foundations  flee. 
We  shall  nor  feel,  nor  hear,  nor  know,  nor  see." 


104 


I UCEETIUS. 


And  even— if  for  a  moment  we  may  imagine  tlie  im- 
possible—even should  the  soul  still  •survive  the  body, 
what  is  that  to  us?  For  we  are  neither  soul  nor  body. 
but  we  are  a  single  being  fashioned  out  of  the  wedlock 
of  the  two.  Nor,  again,  if  lime  should  gatiirr  up  our 
matter  after  death,  and  again  remould  it  into  the  vt-ry 
beings  we  now  are,  that  is  nothing  to  us,  wlienonce  the 
chain  of  our  consciousness  l<as  been  snapped  asuiuler. 
Perhaps  we  may  have  existed  before:  that  gives  us  no 
sorrow.  Suppose  we  can  exist  again:  this  need  give  us 
110  more  trouble  than  that. 

Therefore,  when  you  see  a  man  bemoaning  his  hard 
case,  that  after  death  his  body  will  ciiher  rot  in  the 
grave,  or  be  consumed  h\  tir.\  or  be  torn  i)v  wild  beasts. 
the  sound  his  mouth  gives  forth  betrays  a  flaw  some- 
where.  He  does  not  really  grant  the  conclusion  he  pro- 
fesses to  grant.  He  has  not  with  his  whole  mind 
realized  that  lie  will  wholly  die.  The  inveterate  fancy 
still  clings  to  him  that  there  will  still  be  a  surviving 
something,  that  living  will  lament  about  its  own  death: 

"  Perplexed  he  argues,  from  the  fallacy 

Of  that  surviving  self  not  wholly  freed. 
Hence  he  bewails  his  bitter  doom— to  die; 

Nor  does  he  see  that  when  he  dies  indeed. 
No  second  he  will  still  remain  to  cry. 

Watching  its  own  cold  body  burn  or  bleed. 
O  fool:  to  fear  the  wild-beasts  ravening  claw, 
Or  that  torn  burial  of  its  mouth  and  maw. 

For  lo:  if  this  be  fearful,  let  nie  learn 
Is  it  more  fearful  thau  if  friends  should  place 

Thy  decent  limbs  upon  the  pyre  and  bum 
Sweet  frankincense?  or  smother  up  thy  face 

With  honey  in  the  balm  containing  urn? 
Or  if  you  merely  lay  beneath  the  rays 

Of  heaven  on  some  cold  rock'  or  damp  and  cold 

If  on  thine  eyelids  lay  a  load  of  mould? 


THE  POEM  OF  LUCUETIUS. 


105 


'  Thou  not  again  shalt  see  thy  dear  home's  door, 
Nor  thy  dear  wife  and  children  come  to  throw 

Their  arms  round  thee,  and  ask  for  kisses  more, 
And  through  thy  heart  make  quiet  comfort  go: 

Out  of  thy  hands  hath  slipped  tho  precious  store 
Thou  hoardest  for  thine  own,'  men  say,  '  and  lo, 

All  thou  desired  is  gone!'  but  never  .say, 

*  All  the  desire  as  well  hath  passed  away.' 

Ah !  could  they  only  see  this,  and  could  borrow 
True  words,  to  tell  what  things  in  death  abide  thee! 

'  Thou  shalt  lie  soothed  in  sleep  that  knows  no  morrow. 
Nor  ever  cark  nor  care  again  betide  thee: 

Friend,  thou  wilt  say  thy  long  good-bye  to  sorrow, 
And  ours  will  be  the  pangs,  u  ho  weep  beside  thee, 

And  watch  thy  dear  familiar  body  burn, 

And  leave  us  but  the  ashes  and  the  urn.'  " 

Often,  too,  at  feasts  men  say,  as  they  drink,  and 
wreathe  their  garlands  round  them,  "Miserable  crea- 
tures that  we  are!  our  joys  are  short;  they  will  soon 
I)e  part  and  parcel  of  the  past,  and  the  past  never  gives 
its  own  l)ack  again."  As  if  after  death  they  would 
ever  know  thirst,  and  be  pining  for  the  wine-cup  that 
will  never  more  be  allowed  them! 

Once  more,  could  Nature  only  speak  to  us,  how 
would  she  deride  us  foolish  mortals  and  reprove  us! 
"Fools,"  she  would  say,  "and  sickly  sorrowers!  wliy 
bemoan  and  wail  for  death  in  this  wise?  For  say 
tliy  past  life  has  been  w^elcome  to  thee,  and  all  its  joys 
liave  not  been  given  in  vain,  passing  through  thee  like 
a  leaky  vessel  that  refuses  to  be  tilled— say  thou  hast 
had  thy  will  and  thy  fill  of  living: 

"  Why  not  rise  up  then,  like  a  sated  guest, 
And  enter,  fool,  upon  thy  dreamless  rest!" 

But  if,  on  the  contraiy,  life  has  been  a  sorrow  to  thee, 
and  .aJI  the   blessings  that  have  been  thine  thou  l^ast 


106 


LiCRETll'>. 


squandered,  why  seek  to  re-begin  the  weary  round,  ami 
to  gather  what  again  thou  wilt  w a-ie  and  squander  as 
before?  For  hope  not  to  find  anything  new.  There 
is  no  other  pleasure  that  1  can  contrive  or  discover  for 
thee. 

"For  though  thy  life  he  frt-sh  within  thy  frame, 
Nor  years  have  yet  tliy  bodily  strength  al)ated. 

You  would  find  all  things  alway  still  the  same, 
Ni>r  f'er  diseovpi-  iiii>>  thing  titnv  created 

Nor  shouldst  thou  live  till  all  m^-n's  liv.-^  be  done. 

For  there  is  no  new  thing  beneath  the  sun." 

Think,  too,  of  the  bygone  antiquity  of  tlie  everlasting 
time  before  our  birth,  how  that  was  m.ihing  to  ns  F-.r 
nature  holds  up  to  us  the  time  !li:it  was  he  fort'  i  a 

vision  of  the  future  time  ihat  i~  .me  after  u.s. 

"Look  in  th^^  glass  theji     s  iv  w  hi;  shape  is  there? 
Appears  there  aught  of  terrib!  id? 

Does  not  the  imag^    '       >  ou  gaze  at  seem 
Even  gentler  tlian  ..    ,.,  ^,  with.nit  a  dream." 

Sure  enough,  however,  the  terrors  men  dread  after 
death  are  not  all  vain  imaginings.  Birds  truly  eat  a 
way  into  Tityos;  Sisyphus  rolls  his  stone  up-hill  for 
ever.  But  he  is  ft  Tityos,  who,  as  he  grovels  in  hist. 
is  eaten  up  by  anguish  like  a  vulture;  and  he  is  a 
Sisyphus  who  is  forever  asking  honors  of  the  people, 
and  is  for  ever  going  hack  disappointed.  The  tor- 
ments that  we  dreamed  of  in  the  future  have  their  real 
being  here,  and  men  inflict  them  on  themselves,  in  this 
very  life  around  us. 

Ah!  might  men  only  see  the  real  cause  of  their  .^or 
row8,  how  salvation  would  then  dawn  on  them!     The 
man  who  igsick  of  home  liurries  forth  from  hi<  loidly 
pQr*ic<iif  a«(|  then,  ajjain.  hurries  baok    finding  he  iij 


::■: ■!Wii:'irr!'i::^P;'*!!'i;i|'iM,|f; ■i'i«'!';t'''''''''i?:r!|''i'!!i'|||ii^^ 


:.i|g|ll,;i|;.^(pjfl,n!..r',hn;iph:|iWI« 


THE  POEM  or  LVCnETlUS. 


107 


no  better  off  abroad.  In  the  town  he  says,  Ah,  would 
I  were  in  the  country!  and  in  tlie  country.  Ah,  would  I 
were  in  the  town!  and  to  and  fro  between  the  two  he 
U'M's  hurrying  in  his  ehariot,  and  at  each  end  of  his 
juurney  lie  can  do  nothing  but  yawn  for  w^eariness.  In 
this  way  each  man  flies  from  himself,  but  can  never 
for  a  moment  escape;  and  he  hates  himself,  being  sick 
with  an  unknown  malady.  But  could  he  only  see  the 
matter  rightly,  leaving  all  else,  he  would  study  the 
ntiture  of  things:  and  learning  tliat  certain  extinction 
and  death  is  the  end  of  all.  would  learn  so  to  order  his 
life  accordingly. 

BOOK  IV. 

And  now,  says  Lucretius,  since  I  have  shown  you 
w  hat  mind  and  soul  is.  and  how  life  is  born  with  this 
l)ody,  and  dies  with  the  body's  death,  I  will  go  on  to 
explain  to  you  a  mutter  of  the  utmost  moment;  I  will 
show^  you  how  we  see.  and  feel,  and  taste,  and  how 
our  life  is  connected  with  and  knows  the  extewial 
world.  And  hard  though  the  subject  be,  I  will  make 
it  sweet  to  you.  overlaying  all  its  bitterness  with  the 
sweet  honey  of  the  Pluses. 

He  now  goes  on  to  explain  how  films  and  images 
are  jx^rpetually  streaming  off  the  surface  of  things,  and 
illustrates  this  by  many  analogies.  For  without  doubt, 
he  says,  we  see  many  things  freely  giving  such  dis- 
charge, not  from  the  centre  only,  but  from  the  outer 
surface  itself. 

"  This  daily  happens,  when  the  sunlight  gleams 

Throtieh  tliose  broad  awnings,  yellow,  red,  and  blua, 

Which  flap  and  flutter  ou  their  poles  and  beams 
Over  great  theatres:  for  there  you  view 

How  from  their  surface  down  their  color  streams. 


I 


108  LUcni-JTirs. 

And  how  they  make  to  tlioker  with  their  Imp 
The  curving  crowd,  and  all  the  scene's  rt . 
Aad  the  grave  fathers  in  their  stately  dresses. 

And  all  the  more  the  narrowing  walls  around 

Make  of  the  theatre  a  well  of  night, 
So  niucii  more  gaily  do  the  colors  bound. 

And  every  object  laughs  with  wayward  light." 

And  therefore,  he  .^mv-s  since  sheets  of  canva.^  dis- 
charge color  from  then*  surface,  all  things  will  naturally 
discharge  their  pictures  too— since,  in  each  <  iikc 

thev  are  sent  forth  from  the  surface.  Nor  are  you  to 
suppose  that  only  those  images  are  going  tlirougli  the 
air.  which  are  thus  sent  off  tiie  surface  of  things.  There 
are  other  images,  with  no  counterparts,  wliich  sponta- 
neously beget  and  fashion  themselves,  as  <  loiuls  do,  and 
wander  along  as  clouds  do.  with  ever-varying  and  in- 
constant shape.  For  the  clouds  in  this  way  we  can  see 
continually 

••Fanning  the  air.  and.  gathering  form  on  high, 
Blot  out  the  blue,  and  violate  the  sky; 

Then  through  the  air  in  shifting  shapes  are  born: 
Nor  see  we  monstrous  giants  hurrying  past, 

Who  trad  behind  tbein  lengths  of  shade  forlorn; 
And  now  great  mountains  move  along  the  blast. 

And  crags  and  l>oidders  from  the  mountains  torn, 
By  which  the  sun's  dimmed  face  is  overcast: 

And  now  some  mighty  beast  comes  on  amain 

With  packs  of  other  storm-clouds  in  its  train." 

And  now  I  will  go  on  to  show  with  what  ease  and 
celerity  the  images  or  idols  that  I  spoke  of  are  begotten, 
and  how  mcessantly  they  flow  and  fall  away  from 
things.  Hereupon  he  e.xplains  more  minutely  the  nature 
of  these  emanations,  how  fine  their  substance  is,  and 
consequently  with  what  swiftness  they  are  capable  of 
moving; 


THE   POK.V  OF  LUCRETIUS.  109 

'For  \s*'  ol  sor\^>  that  things  of  little  weight 
A.re  ev.i-  sw  it't  to  move,  of  the  which  kind 
Tlie  sunlight  is,  which  does  not  hesitate, 

Ever  pressed  on  by  fresh  light  from  behind, 
To  force  its  way,  and  tiiiu' .ly  penetrate 
Through  all  the  space  of  air." 

And  these  idols  or  images  of  things  are  in  their  move- 
ments as  swift  as  sunliglit,  and  can  pass  through  air 
as  readily.— nay,  they  must  be  even  swifter;  for  the 
stars  are  further  fnmi  us  than  the  sun,  and  yet 

*"  No  sooner  is  the  shine  of  water  spread 

In  the  night  air,^H'iieath  heaven's  glittering  plain. 
Than  instantly  to  every  star  oerhead 
A  star  within  the  wave  responds  again." 

Therefore,  again  and  again.  I  repeat,  you  must  admit 

that  bodies,  capable  of  striking  the  eyes  and  provoking 
vision,  are  constantly  travelling  through  the  air  with 
;i  marvellous  velocity  But  l>ecause  we  can  see  with 
the  eyes  alone,  the  consequence  is,  that  to  whatever 
point  we  turn  our  sight,  then  all  the  same  things  meet 
and  strike  u^  with  their  shape  and  color.  Lucretius 
now  goes  on  to  explain  the  manner  in  which  we  infer 
the  distance  of  things,  and  then  the  action  of  mirrors, 
and  the  real  nature  of  tiie  reflection  in  them.  He 
then  passes  to  optical  delusions,  and  the  various  ways 
iu  which  it  seems  that  our  eyes  deceive  us: 

"  Now  for  this  cause  the  far  towers  of  a  towTi 

Reach  us  as  round,  when  they  indeed  are  square; 

The  angles  of  their  lUins  are  quite  worn  down 
In  drifting  towards  us  through  the  length  of  air: 

And  when  thev  mert  us  those  strong  things  of  stone 
Seem  smooth  and  circular,  as  though  they  were 

Turned  in  a  lathe;  but  vaguely  thus  appear, 

And  like  a  shadowy  sketch  of  round  things  near.'* 


no 


LUCRETIUS. 


} 


Aii'l  there  are  immbcTless  other  like  cases  as  well,  but 
tliey  eaii  be  all  explained  satisfactorily,  and  we  must 
'never  for  a  moment  admit  that  our  eyes  deceive  us. 
The  frailty,  the  sense  of  deception,  is  really  in  the 
mind.  Do  but  think  of  the  following  instances,  and 
you  will  see  that  this  is  so: 

*'  The  ship  in  which  we  sail  seems  standinpr  still, 
The  ship  tliat  riiles  at  aiu'lior  drift inif  by; 

And  as  we  hold  to  j^eaward,  tield  and  hill 
Seem  to  drop  far  astern ;  and  in  the  sky 

The  stars  we  steer  by  seetn  immovable. 
And  yet  go  movintr  on  assiduovslj, 

Since  each  clear  liody  has  its  hour  to  rise. 

And  its  long  road  to  rest  across  the  skies. 

And  as  we  watch  the  sun  and  moon,  their  light 
Seems  also  tlxed,  yet  still  moves  on  we  know: 

And  when  on  deck  we  watch  with  straining  sight, 
Up  from  the  sea  line  shado\^y  mountains  go. 

Into  one  solid  isle  their  shapes  unite, 
And  yet  we  know  huge  straits  between  theni  flow, 

And  ways  for  fleets.    And  giddy  children  view. 

When  they  stop  turning,  all  things  turning  too." 

So,  too,  the  sun  seems  near  us  when  it  rises,  and  yet 
illimitable  lands  and  seas  and  unknown  people  lie  be- 
tween. A  puddle  of  not  a  finger's  depth  seems  to  con- 
tain the  whole  great  heaven.  As  we  pass  on  liorseback 
in  a  river-ford,  the  river  seems  to  be  standing  still,  and 
ourselves  to  be  carried  violently  up  the  stream.  A 
portico  is  supported  on  equal  pillars,  and  yet  as  we 
look  through  it  their  height  seems  to  be  dwindling,  and 
the  floor  seems  to  be  rising,  till  they  meet  in  a  vanish- 
ing-point. Ours  we  know  to  be  straight ;  and  yet  dip 
them  in  the  water,  and  their  submerged  part  will  seem 
to  be  bent  and  broken : 


TUi:  FOEM  OF  LUCRETIUS.  Ill 

"  So,  too,  we  seem  when  chained  in  sleep  profound 
To  move  in  daylight,  footing  field  and  hill, 
Sailing  new  seas,  and  treading  alien  ground; 

And  when  the  earnest  night  is  deep  and  stiU. 
Our  ears  are  loud  with  many  a  fancied  sound." 

And  many  other  marvellous  things  are  there,  which 
would  seek  to  shake  the  credit  of  the  senses:  but  in 
vain-  for  it  is  not  the  senses  that  deceive  us,  but  we 
who'  deceive  ourselves,  by  wrongly  interpreting  what 
they  rightly  tell  us.     Again— 

*'  If  a  man  hold  that  nothing  can  be  known, 

He  knows  not  whether  he  can  know  this  even. 
Since  he  admits  the  things  he  knows  are  none. 

He  stands  with  head  on  earth,  and  feet  in  heaven. 
And  I  decline  to  talk  with  such  an  one." 

No-such  scepticism  as  this  is  utterly  suicidal.    The 
senses  are  all  we  can  take  our  stand  on,  and  they  are 

unerring  guides.  ,  .     ., 

And  now.  says  Lucretius,  I  will  explam  the  action 
of  the  other  senses.  Sounds,  in  the  first  place,  are 
streams  of  atoms,  whose  shape  varies  with  the  quality 
of  the  sound: 

"  Nor  are  the  first  beginnings  of  like  form 

Which  pierce  the  eai-s  in  crabbed  sounds  and  sweet. 

As  when  in  air  the  braying  trumpets  storm. 
Which  rouse  barbarian  nations  to  their  feet, 

And  when  its  carol  comes  from  the  wild  swan  - 

Over  the  headlong  floods  of  Helicon." 

When  we  speak,  we  force  our  voices  out  of  the  depth 
of  our  bodies,  and  the  tongue  gives  their  shape  to  them 
iust  asthev  are  leaving  our  lips.  Words  travel  a  cer- 
tain distance  keeping  their  clear  shape:  gradually  this 
becomes  obliterated.  No  sooner  is  a  ^o«^«  ""^/^J^ 
than  it  starts  asunder  ioto  mm  voices;  and  this  is  the 


a^-n-jfalW  A-Jrt  Ltld.-frto 


Li  J.  *it  ^  tiht  ait  J 


112 


LUCRETIUS. 


THE  POEM  OF  LUCREriUS, 


118 


way  in  wliicu  a  whole  sisseml>1y  liears  the  words  of  a 
single  speaker.  Voices  whicli  do  ut>l  strike  directl}^  on 
I  he  ear  are  carried  away  and  lost,  or  else  striking  on 
something  solid  are  thrown  buck  again: 

"  Which  knowing,  you  may  to  yourst'lf  e.\i)lain. 

And  to  j^our  friends  the  explaiiatimi  tt-H. 
How  it  is  that  the  rocks  give  back  ipuu 

Our  syUaliles  in  many  a  lonely  dfl!; 
And  how.  whfu  in  the  dusk  wt.'  call  in  \  :iii 

For  our  strayed  frit-nds,  the  hills  grow  voluble, 
And  their  fiimiliar  names  are  tossed  al»t)ut 
From  slope  to  slope  in  many  a  lipless  shout. 

I  have  seen  ]tlaces  uliere  to  one  such  call. 

Straight  MX  .<r  s.veu  would  reply. 

In  such  a  wise  did  every  rucKj  wall 

One  to  tlie  other  make  our  utterance  tiy ; 
And  then  the  others,  likewise,  one  and  all 

Would  toss  them  back  in  answer  ]ir.-~'-iit!y. 
In  spots  like  these,  the  vill  11 

That  the  shy  nymphs  and  goal-luol  satyrs  dwell. 

And  there,  too,  say  they,  lurk  the  haiintiiifr  fauns. 

Who  made  St raiitre  noises  tlii-'m^li  tli»-  iii_:iit  piofvuuid. 
Flaying  quaint  pranks  amongst  tJie  shadowy  1  ^ 

Witii  twanglmg  lyres  and  pipes  of  plaintive  suuud. 
Also,  they  hear  god  Pan,  when  spring-time  dawns. 

Come,  that  wild  head  "t"  hi-  witii  pitie-honghs  hound, 
To  touch  the  reeds  with  d  in  -inh,  ;;ini  Jlui:; 

Their  song  of  sylvan  music  to  the  spring. 

Now  to  proceed,  vou  need  not  wonder  how 

It  is  tha*  1  Ileal  tiie  ears 

Through  tilings  through  whicli  iheeyesiKht  <annot  go. 

Because  of  this  the  reason  i»lain  a]- 
Full  many  a  thing  that  lets  the  voice  o'"  uuough, 

The  visual  film  to  thousand  pieces  tears, 
'Tis  of  so  flu©  a  texture." 

.  Lucretius  now  proceeds  to  give  that  account  of  the 
femaiaiug  senses,  of  dreams,  of  the  imagmation,  aud 


of  the  way  in  which  external  things  act  as  a  stimulus 
to  the  mind,  and  the  mind  again  acts  as  a  stimulus  to 
the  body,  which  has  been  already  explained  at  length. 
He  then  goes  on  to  describe  the  nature  of  love,  which 
he  treats  of  simply  as  a  form  of  physical  excitement. 
This  pleasure,  he  says,  is  for  us  Venus  ;  from  that 
desire  is  the  Latin  name  of  love— from  that  desire  has 
first  trickled  into  the  heart  yon  drop  of  Venus's  honeyed 
joy,  destined  to  be  followed  soon  by  chilly  care.  For 
though  that  which  you  yearn  for  is  away,  yet  images  of 
it  are  at  hand,  and  its  sweet  name  is  present  to  the  ears. 
But  it  is  meet  to  fly  such  images,  and  scare  away  all 
that  feeds  love,  and  not  keep  your  thoughts  set  upon 
one  object,  and  so  lay  up  for  yourself  care  and  unfail- 
ing pain.  For  the  sore  gathers  strength,  and  becomes 
inveterate  by  feeding.  For  love,  says  Lucretius,  is  a 
fierce  madness,  a  hungry  longing,  that  will  never  be 
satiated,  and  >jill  always  leave  you  craving.  For  its 
sake  young  men  waste  their  slrengtli  and  ruin  them- 
selves, and  their  whole  life  is  passed  at  the  beck  of  an- 
other: 

"  Meanwhile  their  substance  Avastes  and  mus  away, 

Turned  into  coverlets  from  Babylon; 
Their  duties  are  neglected  day  by  day, 

And  all  their  noble  name  is  quite  undone. 
Meanwhile  upon  her  brow  green  emeralds  play, 

Glancing  in  gold,  and  shoes  from  Sicyon 
Deck  her  ehistic  feet;  and  teare  and  traces 
Are  on  her  crumpled  robe  of  love's  embraces. 

And  all  the  wealth  their  good  sires  toiled  to  gain 
Changes  to  head-gear,  and  rich  anadem, 

And  Cean  robes  with  trailing  sweep  of  train. 
And  feasts,  and  goblets  thick  with  many  a  gem. 

And  unguents,  games,  and  garlands.    All  in  vain ! 
They  have  their  canker  m  the  heart  of  them, 


■-  ^.ffl-g: 


•*■*  i 


1  imtJU"i'T  I  -c 


I 


mE    POEM  OF   JJrnnKTTTTfi 


11ft 


114 


LVCHKTli'S. 


A  b'tter  soiiiethiug.  in  the  niiduiost  hours 

Of  joys  starts  up,  and  stings  amongst  the  flowers. 

Either  because  thfv  bur  they 

In  foul  embraces  and  t-lleuimate 
Slaj  Iheir  .nvii  selves,  and  waste  their  strength  away; 

Or  else  iht'  dainty  lijis  "n  uii.im  their  fate 
Hangs,  soiiip  slight  wor.:  iV)tfid  meaning  say. 

Which  stings  their  heart  like  flre;  or  so<>n  or  late 
They  think  lier  eyes  are  roaming,  to  beguile 
Others,  and  calch  the  tootprints  of  a  smile." 

And  these  evils  are  the  evils  of  love  when  it  is  siicee:;s- 
ful.  How  mucli  greater  are  those  of  love  that  is  crossed 
aod  hopeless!  So  that  it  is  best  to  watch  heforebaud, 
that  you  be  never  entangled  in  the  snare.  And  yet 
even  when  you  are  entangled  you  may  escape,  iinle.-s 
you  stand  in  youx  own  way,  and  ref  u>e  resolutely  i<» 
observe  all  those  vices  of  niimi  atid  body  which  you 
may  be  quite  sin-e  will  abound  in  her,  woo  whom  you 
■will.  For  this  is  wluit  men  do  for  Mhe  ni(»st  part. 
blinded  by  passion,  and  attribute  to  their  loved  ones 
beauties  that  are  not  really  theirs. 

"  Muddy  complexions  have  a  dusky  sj^ell, 
A  lover  says.    A  slut's  a  natural  creature, 

A  romping  hoyden  seems  a  slim  gazelle; 
A  sharp  tongued  spitfire  dazzles  like  a  meteor. 

See,  in  yon  slow  and  cumbrous  movements  dwell 
A  queenly  pride;  that  face,  without  a  feature. 

Is  strangely  touching;  and  this  fat  plump  chit 

Is,  top  to  toe,  the  very  soul  of  wit." 

Lucretius  goes  on,  something  in  the  temper  of  Pope, 
to  describe  bow  different  is 

"  Cynthia  at  her  toilet's  greasy  task, 
To  Cynthia  fragrant  at  an  evening  masque." 

And  draws  a  humorous  contrast  between  the  scene  a 
tUe  toilet  indoors,  when  the  lady  is  putting  the  lait 


I    iiWilliliMkiiiiiMMiAlimiiMaiMBiMWiMatMAjaBtfBM 


116 


L  VCUETIUS. 


THE  POEM  OF  LUCRETIUS. 


116 


delicate  stroke  to  her  charms,  with  her  maid  behind  her 
tittering  at  the  whole  j)rocess,  and  the  lover  outside  at 
the  threshold  fid)  of  yearning  for  the  adored  one,  and 
thinking  sacred  for  her  sake  the  very  house  that  holds 
her. 

And  yet,  snys  Lucretius  in  conclusion,  it  is  not  all 
love  that  is  thus  vaiu  and  deluding:  some  women  have 
a  genuine  passion  for  their  lovers  or  their  husbands; 
and  often  a  wife,  thotigh  of  but  small  beauty,  will  by 
her  gentle  manners  win  the  heart  of  a  man,  and  cus 
tom  will  ha})ituate  him  to  pass  his  life  with  her,  and 
love  will  set  its  mark  on  his  heart  at  last,  as  dripping 
water  wili  at  last  make  a  hole  in  a  stone. 

BOOK  V. 

Here  again    the    book    opens  with  the    praises  of 
Epicurus: 

"  Where  is  the  bard  whose  verse  avails  to  tell 

Of  themes  like  these    of  Nature's  ways  sublimef 

Or  who  sliall  .so  the  power  of  verse  compel 
As  fitly  to  resound  his  praise  in  rhyme. 

Who  all  those  spoils,  that  to  his  own  hand  fell, 
Hath  left  us  as  an  heirloom  for  all  time, 

Making  us  u i>e  {<>r  ever?    Truly  none, 

Unless  indeed  it  l)e  a  god  alone. 

For  Memmius,  if  'tis  pleasing  in  thine  eyes 
To  si)eak  the  plain  unvarnished  truth  of  things, 

The  author  of  these  greal  discoveries—  , 

He  was  a  K'>d  of  gods,  a  king  of  kings. 

For  first  through  him  men  grew  what  men  call  wise. 
And  from  him  every  rule  of  prudence  springs. 

Who  towed  our  life  out  of  the  storms  and  night, 

And  moored  us  in  the  tranquil  calm  and  light." 

What,  compared  to  his  discoveries,  are  those  of  other 
discoveries?    Ceres,  it  is  said,  gave  corn  to  us,  and 


THE  POEM  OF  LUCRETIUS. 


117 


116 


L  UCliETIUS. 


Baccliiis  wine.  But  we  coiiid  have  lived  on  happily 
without  either  of  these,  and  many  a  nation  does  so 
even  now.  Bu*  unless  the  l)reast  is  clear,  no  life  can 
be  happy;  and  hence  he.  Epicurus  our  mighty  muster, 
is  rightly  held  a  god  by  us,  since  from  him  come  those 
sweet  mental  solaces  which  are  even  now  spreading 
in  the  world,  and  sootliiug  the  hearts  of  men. 

•*  Yea,  and  our  master  therefore  did  far  im >re 
Than  vaunted  Hercules.    For  how  sliould  we 

Fear  the  Neriiean  lion's  rai?e  and  roar. 
Or  that  great  V>ull  it)  C'r^tp  hpyond  the  sea. 

Or  all  the  bristles  of  ti^-  Arc;idi;iii  Itoar. 
Or  what  to  us  could  snaky  hydras  hv'f 

Or  how  wouM  Gorgon  fight  us  from  his  gloom. 

Or  those  Styinphalian  birds  w  iih  l)razen  plume? 

Or  that  great  dragon  which  for  ever  keeps 

The  shioiiiL'  friiita^'ecf  the  Hesp*nides, 
With  tier."  -tud  vigilant  fx  e  tliat  u»'ver  sleeps. 

Couched  "neatii  the  shadow  of  the  eharmetl  trees. 
Whilst  rouod  the  midmost  stem  his  huge  coil  creeps — 

How  should  be  hami  us  b}'  his  far-off  seas. 
The  Atlantic  shore,  and  the  abhorred  waves 
Which  even  the  wild  barbarian  never  braves*" 

And  all  the  other  m3n<5tr'rs  of  like  kind  that  have  been 
conquered,  what  harm,  I  ask,  could  they  do  us  were 
they  even  now  living'  Xcih',  metliinks — neither  these, 
nor  the  like  of  these.  But  luiless  the  breast  is  cleared, 
it  itself  is  full  of  monsters;  rather  let  us  be  afraid  of 
them,  and  honor  and  glorify  him  who  put  them  first  to 
rout. 

Wlietefop  'king  in  his  footsteps,  I  will  tell  you 
in  order  liow  the  world  arose,  and  what  laws  it  obeyed 
in  rising.  I  will  show  you  tliat  it  had  a  birth,  and 
that  death  is  also  in  for  it.     I  will  tell  you  how 

the  heaven  is  formed,  and  the  eartli  also,  the  moon  and 


n.  tM    Jfafajfjyj.  iPtM^fj  r  ...^atJL  lJ^j-^  ■    .j   .   j  ji.^. 


THE  POEM  OF  LUCRETIUS. 


117 


stars,  aiul  how  living  creatures  emerged  out  of  lifeless 
matter:  and  I  will  show  you  how  all  things  are  held 
and  fettered  bv  immutable  laws  and  bounderies: 


"Well,  not  to  dally  more  with  things  unproven, 

Look  round  you,  on  the  heaven,  the  earth,  the  sea, 

The  triple  threatl  of  which  the  world  is  woven, 
Three  l)odies,  Memmius,  such  a  different  three. 

A  day  shall  come  when  these  shall  all  be  cloven, 
And  all  the  things  that  are  shall  cease  to  be. 

And  blown  Uke  dust  upon  a  stormy  wind. 

The  whole  world  melt,  nor  leave  a  wrack  behind." 

If  you  doubt  how  this  can  be,  consider  the  power  of 
earthquakes,  and  how  in  a  few  moments  all  things  near 
are  shattered  by  them: 

"  But  these  may  fortune  banish  from  our  path. 
Nor  with  such  signs  see  tit  to  assure  our  faith." 

But  before  I  go  on  to  sing  you  the  sure  oracle,  the 
doom  and  the  destruction  that  await  this  whole  uni- 
verse. I  will  again  pause  a  moment  and  sustain  your 
trend)ling  mind,  lest  religion  should  still  make  you 
think  that  the  world  will  endure  for  ever,  and  that  all 
who  should  seek  to  prove  otherwise  shall  .suffer  punish- 
ment, like  a  fresh  race  of  Titans  laboring  to  under- 
mine the  world.  For  what  life  or  sense  is  there  in  the 
.sea,  the  sun.  the  moon,  that  they  should  heed  or  hear 
what  men  say  about  them?  How  can  they  possibly 
have  any  life  or  passions  in  them?  For  we  liave  seen 
what  life  is.  It  cannot  exist  without  a  fleshly  body; 
and  even  in  that  body  it  can  live  only  in  a  certain  part. 
Then,  too,  you  cannot  possibly  believe  that  the  gods 
exist  in  any  parts  of  the  world.  Their  fine  nature  is 
far  withdrawn  from  our  senses;  the  mind  itself  hardly 


118 


irCREl'irs:. 


sees  them.  We  cannot  touch  them;  and  how  then,  I 
ask  you,  shall  they  touch  us?  What  folly,  too,  to  say 
that  the  gods  have  maile  the  world,  and  set  it  in  order, 
and  arranged  it  for  the  use  of  man?  In  the  first 
place,  what  could  possibly  induce  them  to  take  such 
trouble?— 

"What  could  they  gain  from  such  a  race  as  ours? 
Or  what  advantaere  could  our  gratitude 
Yield  these  iuuu<>rtal  and  most  blessed  powers. 
That  thej  in  aught  should  labor  for  our  good?" 


Or  what  new  incident  could  have  broken  in  upon 
them,  and  made  them  desirous  to  change  their  former 
life?  Or  even  if  they  wmiiIc d  lo  make  a  world,  where 
did  they  find  any  pattern  to  work  by,  and  how  did 
they  set  about  the  business?  or  liow.  again,  did  they 
ascertain  the  world-making  capabilities  of  the  atoms, 
unless  Nature  herself,  motlier  of  tlie  gods,  had  shown 
the  gods  all  that  she  herself  could  do? 

•*  But  even  had  the  science  ne'er  been  mine 

Of  first  beginnings,  and  how  all  began. 
I  could  show  clearly  that  no  power  divine 

Helped  at  the  work,  and  made  the  world  for  man; 
So  great  tlit-  bliindtMs  in  i\\<-  \.i.st  design, 

So  palpa!i!>  is  ail  wit  hour  a  plan. 
For  if  'twert'  made  for  us.  its  structure  halts 
In  every  member,  full  of  flaws  and  faults. 

Look  at  the  earth:  mark  then,  in  the  first  place. 
Of  all  the  ground  tlie  rounded  sky  bends  over» 

Forests  and  mountains  fUl  a  mighty  space, 
And  even  more  do  wasteful  war.^rs  ('over. 

And  sundering  seas;  then  the  suns  deadly  rays 
Scorch  part,  and  over  part  the  hard  forests  hover; 

And  Natiuv  all  tlie  rest  with  weeds  would  spoil, 

Unless  man  ihwarted  her  with  wear.ying  toil. 


THE  POEM  OF  LUCRETIUS. 


119 


Mark,  too,  the  babe,  how  frail  and  helpless,  quite 
Naked  it  comes  out  of  its  mother's  womb, 

A  waif  cast  hither  on  the  shores  of  light, 
Like  some  poor  sailor,  by  the  fierce  sea's  foam 

Washed  upon  land;  itJies  in  piteous  plight, 
Nor  speaks,  but  soon,  as  it  beholds  its  home, 

Bleats  forth  a  bitter  cry-oh  meet  presage 

Of  its  life  here,  its  woful  heritage  I 

But  the  small  youngling's  of  the  herds  and  flocks 
Are  strong,  and  batt.-n  uu  the  grass  and  dew. 

They  need  no  playthings,  none  their  cradle  rocks 
Nor  ask  they  with  the  seasons  garments  new. 

They  have  no  need  of  walls,  and  bars,  and  locks 
To  guard  their  treasures:  but  for  ever  true 

To  them,  the  earth  her  constant  bounty  pours 

Forth  at  their  feet,  and  never  stints  her  stores." 

Lucretius  now  goes  on  to  point  out  in  detail  the  con- 
tirmal  waste  of  everything  that  is  visibly  going  on  in 
tlie  world  around  us.  and  to  argue  from  this  that  of  the 
whole  there  must  be  one  day  a  like  dissolution.  Earth 
i.s  for  ever  being  dis-solved  in  water,  or  broken  into  dust 
and  being  whirled  away  in  air;  water  in  its  turn  is 
being  for  ever  driuik  up  by  the  sun;  and  the  sun  itself 
is  for  ever  ^vasting  its  substance  in  swift  emission  of 
ravs. 

"So  you  may  see  at  night  such  earthly  tire, 

As  hanging  lamps,  and  torches  blazing  bright. 

Darting  their  flames  out,  as  with  keen  desire,— 
Desire,  I  say.  to  feed  the  wasting  light, 

'Wliich  travelling,  still  doth  on  its  path  expire. 
And  would  if  not  renewed  be  broken  quite; 

But  to  the  dying  rays  succeed  fresh  rays, 

And  on  the  wall  the  light  unpausing  plays." 


Again,  too.  you  may  see  that  even  stones  are  con- 
quered by  time,  high  towers  moulder  and  fall  down 


120 


LUCRETIUS. 


crashing,  aud  eveu  liic  mountain-summits  crumble  to 
decay. 

Tliiuk  of  this,  too.— if  the  world  was  ever  bom,  so 
surely  will  it  perish.  Aud  it  must  have  had  a  birth" 
ijay—it  cannot  have  been  from  everlasting,  or  else 
some  record  would  have  come  to  us  of  times  before 
the  Theban  war  and  the  fall  of  Pergamus. 

Again,  as  I  have  showu  that  nothing  is  solid  but  the 
atoms,  and  that  void  is  mixed  up  with  all  things,  and 
that  void  aud  atoms  alone  can  resist  all  force  and  art- 
indestructible,  you  may  be  certain,  you  surely  can  no 
longer  doubt,  that  the  grave  and  gate  of  death  is 
gaping  for  the  whole  universe. 

Again,  I  have  just  shown  you  how  all  the  elenitnls 
of  the  w^orld  are  enga^;ed  continually  in  a  tierce  in- 
testine war;  and  to  this  -struggle  there  must  some  day 
be  an  end, — either  water,  tire,  or  air  will  one  day  get 
the  mastery,  and  then  there  will  be  the  beginning  (tf 
the  end.  Twice,  indeed,  even  already,  they  feign  tiiat 
the  battle  has  been  well  nigh  ended,  and  that  water 
once  was  all  but  master;  and  once  again  that  tire  w;is. 
when  Phaethon  was  whirled  aloft  in  the  sun's  chariot— 

"  And  the  boy's  hands  let  go  the  dangling  reins. 
And  the  team  tore  across  the  ethereal  jtlains. 

But  theahnighty  father,  seized  with  ire. 

Launched  at  the  boy  the  all  dreaded  thunderstone; 
And  as  he  fell,  the  ^un,  the  Sun  his  sire. 

With  rapid  hand,  from  lit-adlong  Phaetliou 
Snatched  the  world's  lamp  of  ever-burning  fire. 

And  gathered  up  tlie  reins,  and  one  by  one 
He  tamed  the  trembling  steeds,  aud  once  again 
Mounted  his  car,  and  gave  new  life  to  men." 

And  now,  says  Lucretius,  I  will  tell  you  in  what 
-order  the  present  world  evolved  itself.    And  he  goes 


iMdhMMMMHWIIMttiil 


THE  POEM  OF  LtTCnETIUS. 


121 


on  to  describe  the  first  chaotic  atom-storm,  and  the 
gradual  massing  together  of  the  earth,  and  how  it  cast 
off  from  itself  the  blue  heaven,  as  a  kind  of  husk  or 
covering,  and  then  threw  out  the  fires  that  make  the 
moon,  and  stars,  and  all  the  other  lights  that  are  in  the 
lirmament.  First  an  igneous  ether,  he  says,  went  up 
from  the  earth's  surface,  which,  sweeping  round  as 
lire,  gradually  formed  the  heavens. 

'•  And  this  same  ether  rising,  in  its  wake 

Full  many  a  seed  of  vivid  fire  up-drew. 
Thus  when  we  see  the  low  red  morning  break 

Along  the  grasses  rough  and  gemmed  with  dew. 
Does  a  gray  mist  go  up  from  off  the  lake. 

And  from  the  clear  perennial  river  too; 
And  even  at  times  the  very  meadows  seem 
From  their  green  breast  to  breathe  a  silvery  stream." 

He  now  adds  a  number  of  details  as  to  the  formation 
of  the  earth's  surface,  which  have  been  described 
already;  and  again  refers  to  the  onward  changeless 
sweep  of  the  ether,  which  keeps  on  its  even  way, 
unheeding  all  the  turmoil  and  the  storms  in  the  lower 
air,  between  the  earth  and  it. 

"  Onward  it  ever  drives  in  changeless  sweep; 
And  how  it  still  can  so  hold  on  and  on 

The  Pontic  sea  may  teach  you,  which  doth  keep 
Ever  due  on,  nor  turns,  for  any  force. 
Its  icy  current  and  compulsive  course." 

Upon  this  follows  a  long  series  of  speculations  on 
the  motions  of  the  sun  and  moon,  the  rest  of  the 
heavenly  bodies,  and  the  laws  which  govern  the  regu- 
lar recurrence  of  the  seasons,  and  the  changmg  dura- 
tion of  the  hours  of  light  and  darkness. 

And  now,  he  says,"since  I  have  explained  m  wha 
way  everything  m/^A^^^  on  throughout  the  blue  vault 


122 


ircRETirs. 


4 


of  heaven.  I  will  go  back  to  tlie  infancy  of  the  world, 
and  the  tender  age  of  the  fields,  and  show  what,  in 
their  first  attempts  at  child-bearing,  they  tried  to  raise: 

"Up  to  the  shores  of  li;:;lit,  and  gave  them  there 
Into  the  keeping  of  the  wandering  air. 

In  the  beginning,  then,  the  clods  gave  forth 
All  kinds  of  herbage,  and  a  verdant  sheen 

Was  glossy  on  the  hills;  and  tlowery  earth 
Laughed  over  all  her  meadows  glad  and  green: 

Then  buslies  next  m.d  tr^^f*!  of  greater  girth. 
Orderly  rising  seen; 

Which  things  came  forth  spontaneous  everywhere, 

Like  a  bird's  feathers  or  a  horse's  hair." 

Then  gradually,  iu  the  manner  that  has  been  described 
already,  the  earth  gave  birth  to  men,  and  animals,  of 
the  kinds  that  are  now  with  us: 

"But  hardier  far  than  we  were  those  first  races 
Of  men,  siuo'  earth  lierself  did  them  produce, 
And  braced  them  with  a  firmer  frame  than  braces 

Us  now,  and  strung  their  arras  with  mightier  thews. 
Nor  sun  nor  rain  on  them  left  any  traces, 
Nor  sickness.    And  they  never  learned  the  use 
.   Of  arts,  for  ages:  but  like  beasts  they  ran 
Wild  in  the  woods—the  early  race  of  man. 

Their  strong  arms  knew  not  how  to  guide  the  plough. 
Or  how  to  plunge  the  spade  and  till  the  plain, 

Or  from  the  trees  to  lop  the  falling  bough. 
But  what  the  sun  had  given  tiiem.  and  the  rain, 

They  took,  and  det- m*'d  it  luxury  vuow. 
Nor  knew  they  y«-r  the  fatal  greed  of  gain. 

But  in  the  woods  they  sought  their  simple  store. 

And  stripped  the  trees,  and  never  asked  for  more. 

For  thick  the  acorns  in  th  >t  grew. 

And  arbute-trees  woull  yield  the  berried  prize, 

Which  in  the  winter  wears  a  scarlet  hue; 
And  the  earth  bore  thes.-  then  of  larger  size; 


\ 


THE  POEM  OF  LUCRETTUS. 

And  manj^  another  suchlike  berry  too, 
It,  from  its  yet  unfliiish*-d  grnnane;*, 
Gave  gladly  forth,  mure  than  sufficing  then 
To  appease  the  dawning  wants  of  those  poor  men. 

And  like  wild  herds  they  clustered  to  the  sound 

Of  falling  waters,  loud  la  many  a  dell, 
To  slake  their  thirst;  and  as  they  roamed,  they  found 

The  nymph-'  /:  >  eu  litunts,  and  theri-  began  to  dwell; 
For  there  sweet  waters  gushed  from  out  the  ground 

In  living  streams,  and  on  the  damp  rocks  fell— 
The  damp  rocks,  green  with  many  a  mossy  stain- 
Then  shpt  away,  and  babbled  to  the  plain. 

And  they  knew  naught  of  fire,  nor  thought  to  fling 
The  skins  of  beasts  about  their  nakednt'ss; 

But  the  wild-wood's  roof  was  their  covering, 
Or  rugged  mountain  cave;  and  they  would  press 

Into  the  brushwood,  from  the  buffeting 
Of  rain  and  storni,  and  all  the  weather's  stress. 

And  nothing  yet  of  rule  or  law  they  knew. 

Nor  how  to  keep  the  weal  of  all  in  view. 

Whatever  fortune  threw^  in  each  man's  way. 
That  each  bore  off  and  hoarded  as  his  own. 

To  grasp  and  clutch  it  as  his  proper  prey, 
Aloof,  and  living  for  himself  alone. 

And  naked  in  the  woods  the  lovers  lay; 
And  by  her  lust  or  his  each  girl  was  won; 

Or  else  by  force;  or  bribed,  she  heard  his  suit, 

By  little  gifts  of  acorns  or  ripe  fruit. 

And  trusting  in  their  strength  of  hands  and  feet. 
They  would  outstrip  the  wild  beasts  in  the  wood; 

And  some  to  death  witli  i)ondt'r(>us  clubs  would  beat. 
And  hide  from  fiercer  ones,  who  sought  their  blood: 

And  just  where  night,  with  noisless  step  and  fleet, 
O'ertook  them,  like  the  dull  sow's  bristly  brood, 

Down  on  the  ground  without  a  thought  they  lay, 

And  burrowing  in  the  leaves  slept  sound  till  day. 


123 


■><<«■  .aajwiiiiah"-"---":;::::**::;^^ 


124 


LUCRETIUS, 


THE  POEM  OF  LUCRETIUS. 


125 


124 


LUCRETIUS, 


And  never  waking  in  the  dark,  with  fright 
Would  they  cry  out,  amazed  for  all  the  shade. 

And  beg  the  sun  to  bring  them  back  the  light. 
But  stolid  they  would  sleep,  and  undismayed. 

Till  rosy  morning  pleased  to  climb  the  height 
Of  heaven;  for  they,  who  from  their  birth  surveyed 

The  light  and  dark  alternate  rise  and  fall, 

Trusted  the  world,  nor  feared  the  end  of  all." 

But  this  state  of  things  did  not  last  for  ever.  Protr- 
less  begun,  and  Lucretius  liere  at  length  describes  its 
advancing  stages— tlie  gradual  discoveries  of  fire,  of 
the  use  of  the  metals,  of  bouses,  of  law.  of  niouogauiy, 
and  all  the  other  elements  and  influences  of  civilizu. 
tiou.  And  he  then  goes  on  to  account  for  the  risi-  of 
religion,  attributing  it,  as  has  been  already  said,  lo 
two  different  causes — the  sight  of  the  wandering 
images  of  the  gods'  forms,  and  also  to  ignorance  of  the 
hidden  forces  of  nature.  Then  when  once  this  concep- 
tion of  the  gods  was  formed — 

"They  gave  them  dwellings  in  the  heavenly  light. 

Far  off  and  calm;  because  for  aye  ajipear 
Through  the  high  heaven  to  roll  the  moon  and  night. 

Moon,  day,  and  night,  and  all  night's  stars  austere. 
And  trailing  meteors,  vagrant  things  of  light. 

And  flying  fires  that  wander  far  and  near; 
And  because  snows  and  hail  and  wind  are  there. 
And  the  hoarse  threats  that  thunder  through  the  air." 

O  hapless  race  of  men,  exclaimes  Lucretius,  when 
first  they  taxed  the  gods  with  having  anything  to  do 
with  this  world  of  ours  and  its  management!  Little 
knew  they  the  terror  of  the  chains  they  were  binding 
about  themselves ;  what  wounds,  what  tears  they  were 
preparing  for  their  children's  children'  For  still  as  we 
gaze  at  the  vast  world  around  us.  the  importunate  f(  :.r 
will  at  times  steal  into  our  soul,  that  the  power  of  ili,' 


TEE  POEM  OF  LUCRETIUS, 


125 


gods  may  be  unlimited;  and  religion  begins  to  raise  its 
reawakening  head. 

Having  made  this  digression,  Lucretius  again  returns 
to  his  account  of  human  progress,  describing  the  rude, 
simple  pleasures  of  our  earliest  ancestors,  and  warning 
us  that  luxuries,  though  inevitably  found  out  one  after 
one,  and  inevitably  making  us  discontented  with  what 
went  before,  have  made  us  no  better  pleased  with  the 
present,  though  they  have  made  us  displeased  with  the 
past,  and  that  with  splendor  and  refinement  have  come 
envy  and  discontent,  from  which  the  simple  savage 
early  woiid  was  free.  Mankind,  he  says,  therefore, 
ever  toils  vainly  and  to  no  purpose,  and  wastes  life  in 
groundless  cares,  because  men  have  never  learnt  what 
is  the  true  end  of  getting,  and  up  to  what  point  true 
pleasure  waxes.  This  by  slow  degrees  has  carried  life 
out  into  the  deep  sea.  and  stirred  up  from  their  lowest 
depth  the  mighty  billows  of  war. 

And  now  all  has  been  told,— how  time  by  degrees 
brings  each  several  things  before  men's  eyes,  and 
reason  raises  it  up  into  the  borders  of  the  light;  for 
things  in  their  due  order  must  be  thus  advanced  and 
brought  forward,  until  they  have  arrived  at  the  sum- 
mit beyond  which  they  can  go  no  further. 


BOOK  VL 

We  now  come  to  the  last  book  of  the  poem;  and 
this,  again,  opens  with  another  celebration  of  Epi- 
curus: 

'•  Athens  it  was,  Athens,  most  famous  name, 
Who  first  gave  corn  to  us,  sick  sons  of  earth; 
And  taught  us  countless  arts,  and  how  to  frame 
La«  s;  but  she  gave  her  gift  of  chiefest  worth. 


126 


LUCRETIUS. 


When  unto  life  she  sent  that  man  of  fame 

Out  of  whose  mouth  •  r.is  of  truth  welled  forth. 

Wherefore  his  plory  rhruu^'ii  i  iie  world  is  spread, 
Ana  still  he  speaks  though  dumb,  and  lives  being  dead. 

For  when  he  saw  that  each  most  sore  distress 

And  craving  of  the  flesli  was  satisfied. 
And  men  forbore  front  wri>nirand  lawlessness, 

And  iife  became  secure,  and  pomp  and  pride 
And  pleasures  multiplied,  jet  none  the  less 

Each  heart  in  secret  ache<I,  and  each  breast  sighed, 
And  that  for  ever  in  the  minds  desijite 
Were  tears  and  pain  our  gursts  from  morn  to  night. 

He  plainly  saw  that  not  lU..*  honeyed  draught 

Of  hfe  itself  di  1  all  this  leen  afford; 
But  'twas  the  vessfl  out  of  which  'twas  quaffed 

That  spoiled  whatever  info  it  \\  -f,!; 

Partly  that  through  the  potter's  careless  craft 

It  leaked:  in  part,  that  in  its  depth  were  stored 
Some  bitter  dreg^,  that  sent  a  taint  through  all 
The  sweets  it  hehl,  of  wormwood  and  of  gall."' 

He  therefore    clenusod   p  hearts  with   liis  truth- 

telling  precepts,  arul  i)Iav  limit,  to  lust  and  fetir. 

and  showed  the  chief  g..od  we  s^hoiild  all  strive  t('> 
reach,  and  the  narrow  track  lliaf  led  to  if.  And  lie 
showed  that  the  ills  that  plague  men  in  this  mortal  life 
were  ills  that  came  from  oat  in  e— from  a  blind  chance 
or  force,  call  it  what  we  will.  Foi-  the  terror  that 
heretofore  had  field  men  in  bondage,  and  indeed  still 
holds  very  many  of  them,  is  to  be  dispelled  by  reason, 
and  by  reason  only: 

"  *^"*^  '  sliowii  tlie  ethereal  plains 

Of  heaven  ar.  ij,  and  the  .•arth  helow, 

And  of  all  thin^^  timt  :  tains 

The  life  and  rnovenienL  i  have  su :  ,w 

Tlie  goal  dra\v8  near.    But  soniethii.^-  ;  ct  remains 
To  tell.    I  have  another  mile  to  go 


128 


LUCRETIUS. 


THE  POEM  OF  LUCRETIUS. 


127 


And  In  the  3Iuse*s  car  must  mount  on  Ingh. 
'Mid  storms  and  winds,  and  tell  jou  how  they  fly. 

For  foolish  mortals,  one  and  all  together, 
Say  that  the  calm  In'gh  gods,  by  each  caprice 

Of  fretful  temper  swayed,  ordain  the  weather, 
Venting  their  ra^e  m  storms;  and  when  they  cease 

From  rage,  releuiiu;^  wit),  a  cloudless  ether." 

But  in  order  that  rea-on  may  drive  from  us  the  very 
remendiranee  of  such  t^ld-wives'  tales  as  these,  and  the 
unmanning  and  senseless  fear  that  they  would  still,  if 
they  could,  beget  in  us,  I  will  sing  to  you  of  the  law 
and  aspect  of  heaven,  and  of  the  birlh  of  the  storms 
and  thunders,  and  of  the  bright  lightnings,  that  you 
mav  see  how  all  coes  on  by  a  ti.xed  unbending  law, 
tfiaj  has  no  thought  of  man,  nor  any  care  about  him; 
and  that  you  may  spare  your  pains,  and  never  look  to 
the  skies  for  omens,  nor  heed  a  jot  from  what  quarter 
the  volant  tire  has  fallen. 

Thunder,  in  the  tir^t  place,  is  the  produce  of  clash- 
ing clouds,  which  either  flap  in  the  wind  like  canvas 
stretched  and  tossing  over  theatres,  or.  filled  full  of 
wind   inside,    burst  suddenly   as  a  distended  bladder 

does. 

U  lightens,  too,  when  the  clouds  have  struck  out  by 
their  collisions  many  see<ls  of  fire;  but  we  hear  the 
thunder,  after  we  have  seen  the  lightning,  because, 
thouiih  the  two  are  really  simultaneous,  the  sound 
travels  mere  slowly  thtm  the  light  does.  There  are  also 
other  ways  in  which  the  clouds 

"  Dye  all  the  landscape  with  their  winged  light, 
And  with  a  rapid  quivering  flashes  out 
Tho  saihng  storm." 

For  sometimss   the   fire  is  caused,   not  by  the  clouds 
themselves,   but    by  the   wind  working  its  way  into 


THE  POEM  OF  L  UORETIUS. 


129 


128 


lucnETivs. 


tliem,  and  growing  hot  by  its  own  velocity.  This  takes 
place,  you  must  know,  when  the  clouds  are  very  denst'. 
and  are  piled  up  into  the  heaven  to  an  unimaginable 
height : 

*'  For  do  but  note  what  time  the  storm-wind  wild 

Conies  carrying  clouds  like  mountains  through  the  air, 
Or  on  the  mountaid's  selves  the  clouds* are  piled 

Motionless,  and  each  wind  is  in  its  lair. 
Then  may  you  mark  those  mountain-masses  proud, 
And  huge  eaves  built  of  hanging  rocks  of  cloud." 

Well,   it  is  through   these  cloud-mountains   that  the 

storm  raves  and  prowls,  and  pent  amongst  the  cave^ 

and  precipices,  howls  like  a  pack  of  w  ihl  beasts,  and. 

seekiirir  a  way  out.  rolls  together  seeds  uf  fue,  and  at 

last  comes  bursting  out  ai  forky  flashes. 

And  now  1  will  tell  you  another  thing;— I  will  tell 

you  by  what  law 

"The  miphty  thunderbolt 
Goes  through  the  walls  of  houses  like  a  shout;" 

piercing  things  that  no  earthly  tire  can  pierce— nay, 
not  even  the  fire  of  the  sun  in  heaven.  Lucretius  ful- 
fils his  promise  ar  great  length,  and  devotes  nearly  two 
hundred  lines,  of  no  great  interest,  to  his  account  of 
these  thunderbolts;  asking  in  the  middle,  not  with- 
out pertinence,  why,  if  they  were  hurled,  as  was  said 
commonly,  by  the  gods,  to  execute  their  vengeance,  so 
many  of  them  fell  in  the  seas  and  deserts,  and  why  the 
rest  so  rarely  hit  the  only  people  for  whom  they  pos- 
sibly could  have  been  intended. 

From  these  subjects  he  passes  on  to  the  laws  of 
earthquakes,  the  way  in  which  the  s^a  i-  -  ill  supplied 
with  water,  although  so  much  is  being  constantly  evap- 
orated off  its  surface,  the  action  of  volcanoes,  the  rise 
and  fall  of  the  Nile,  and  a  variety  of  other  minor  phe- 


THE  POEM  OF  L UCRETIUS. 


129 


nomena.  He  then  at  great  length  gives  his  explana- 
tion of  the  action  of  the  magnet;  and  then  suddenly 
leaps  from  this  to  a  very  short  passage  on  the  laws  of 
the  propagation  of  disease,  which  he  traces  to  various 
conditions  of  climate,  and  the  perpetual  flying  about 
in  the  air  of  particles  that  are  hurtful  to  life,  when 
attacking  it  under  certain  conditions.  And  it  makes, 
he  says,  no  difference  whether  we  travel  to  places  un- 
favorable to  us,  and  change  the  atmosphere  which 
wraps  us  round,  or  whether  nature  without  our  choice 
brings  to  us  an  atmosphere  unsuited  to  us,  or  something 
to  the  use  of  which  we  have  not  been  accustomed,  and 
which  is  able  to  attack  us  on  its  first  arrival. 

He  then,  without  more  preface,  at  once  plunges  into 
a  description  of  the  great  plague  at  Athens,  borrowed 
from  the  celebrated  account  given  by  Thucydides. 
Such  a  form  of  disease,  he  says,  and  a  death  fraught 
miasma,  once  within  the  borders  of  Cecrops  defiled  the 
whole  land  with  dead,  and  unpeopled  the  streets,  and 
drained  the  city  of  its  citizens.  Rising  first  and  start- 
ing from  the  innermost  borders  of  Egypt,  having  trav- 
elled through  long  reaches  of  air  and  over  floating  fields 
of  sea,  the  plague  pitched  at  last  on  the  whole  people 
of  Athens: 


"  The  pestilence  would  first  the  head  assail. 

And  then  the  bloodshot  eyes,  wherein  there  stood 

A  dull  set  fire;  and  next  tlie  throat  grew  pale 
Inside,  and  all  its  passa,!j:e  blotched  with  blood. 

Then  ulcers  formed,  anon  the  voice  would  fail ; 
The  tongue,  the  spirit's  spokesman,  would  exude 

Blood  also,  and  relaxed  in  every  string. 

Lolled  in  the  mouth  a  parched  and  listless  thing. 

Next  down  the  throat  the  insidious  pest  would  glide, 
And  through  the  breast  assault  the  heart's  own  door; 


130 


LUi  RKTIUS. 


LUCRETIUS  AS  A  POET, 


131 


Then  slowly  would  tiif  vital  power  subside, 

And  throuKli  tlie  mouth  a  stench  begin  to  poilP 
With  the  decaying  breath.'' 

And  so  the  description  goes  on  for  about  a  Imndred 
and  twenty  lines,  :ui(iing  detail  of  this  kind  to  detail, 
toucliing  by  tlie  way  on  the  agony  and  despair  of  the 
sulTerers — liow  no  remedy  could  be  found  anywhere — 
and  at  the  appalling  spectacle — 

"How  medicine  nvuttered  low  with  voic;»less  fear." 

And  this  above  all,  says  Lucretius,  heaped  death  on 
death; — whenever  aiiv  refused  to  attend  tlieir  own  sick, 
killing  neglect  soon  after  would  punish  them  for  their 
too  great  love  of  life,  by  visiting  them  in  tlieir  J  urn 
with  as  foul  an  end,  abandoned  iu  their  turn,  and  for- 
lorn of  help. 

"  They  too  who  stayed  to  tend  the  beds  of  death, 

Themselves  anon  Avere  seeu  to  droop  and  die, 
Drawing  c«»tita;;ion  from  the  taiiiled  l>reath 
That  thanked  them  for  their  kindness  piteously.** 

_lud  at  length  so  great  was  the  mortality,  so  many  were 
the  bodies  in  vain  <  rying  for  buriid,  that  the  old  rites 
of  sepulture  contiiuicd  no  more  in  tlie  city,  with  which 
pious  folk  of  old  had  been  always  wont  to  be  buried: 
for  everything  was  confusion  and  dismay,  and  eacli 
man  would  sorrowfully  bury  his  own.  in  any  way  the 
pri'vcni  moment  allowed, 

"  And  many  a  direful  deed  did  men  do  then. 

Urged  on  by  sudden  want  and  poverty; 
For  on  the  funeral  pyres  of  other  meu 

They  thrust  their  own  poor  kin  uproariously; 
And  wrangling-  tlieir  blood  they'd  shed, 

Dogged,  and  dying  ere  liiey  d  leave  their  dead." 

And  with  these  lines  the  poem  of  Lucretius  ends. 


CHAPTER  V. 


LUCRETIUS   AS   A   POET. 


Something  has  now  been  seen  of  what  Lucretius  did, 
under  both  its  aspects.  We  have  examined  each  of  the 
two  things  he  gave  to  the  world,  and  for  which  the 
world  remembers  him — his  system  of  natural  science, 
and  the  poem  in  which  he  set  that  system  forth.  It 
now  remains  to  us  to  glance  back  over  both  of  these, 
and  to  take  some  general  view  of  them,  that  we  may 
form  some  estimate  of  the  place  their  author  held  both 
as  a  poet  and  a  man  of  science;  and  also — which  is  a 
matter  of  deeper  interest — how  he  stands,  when  com- 
pared with  us,  in  relation  to  the  deeper  and  the  more 
perplexed  questions  of  life. 

AVe  will  consider  him  first  iu  the  character  under 
which  he  is  most  generally  known  and  spoken  of, — the 
character  simply  of  a  poet. 

And  here  the  first  and  most  obvious  remark  to  make 
is,  that  though  Lucretius  was  by  his  genius  most  un- 
doubtedly a  great  poet,  yet,  judging  of  his  work  as  a 
whole,  he  has  very  certainly  not  written  a  great  poem. 
We  must  say  in  this  case,  as  Ottilia's 'tutor  says  in 
Goethe's  novel,  "We  presume  capabilities;  we  require 
accomplishments."  And  the  "  Essay  on  the  Nature  of 
Things"  is  not  an  accomplished  poem.  The  very  sub- 
ject itself,  and  still  more  the  sort  of  treatment  that, 
for  his  own  purposes,  Lucretius  thought  essential  to  it, 
shut  out  all  possibility  of  its  ever  being  this.  By  far 
the  larger  number  of  his  verses  are  devoted  to  explain- 
ing facts  which  not  only  afford  naturally  no  material 


132 


L  rrimnus. 


LUCRETIUS  AS  A  POET. 


138 


for  poetry,  but  which  can  only  be  approached  fitly  in 
the  absence  of  all  poetical  excitation.     Instead,  there- 
fore, of  putting  poetry  into  the  phenomena  he  lias  to 
deal  with,  Lucretius  has,  in  tiie  bulk  of  Iiis  work,  to 
root  out  all   that  man   has  already  put  there.     Man, 
and  man's  passions,   and  the  human   sense  of  beauty 
—without  these  there  can  be  no  poetry.     Nature  is 
poetical  only  as  connected  with  these.      And  when 
Lucretius  deals  with  nature,  it  is  his  great  aim  to  lull 
passion,  fancy,  and  all  emotion  to  rest,  and  coldly  and 
calmly  to  see  things  as  they  really  are.     Much  poetry, 
as  we  all  know,  has  been  written  about  the  moon,  and 
we  know  well  enough  the  sort  of  moods  of  which  most 
of  this  poetry  is   the  outcome.     But  when   Lucretius 
writes  of  the  moon,  no  such  moods  are  his.     The  moon 
to  him  is  simply  a  phenomenon,  to  be  observed  coldly, 
and  with  no  passion,  till  the  secret  of  its  movements  is 
explained,  and  every  trace  of  mystery  stolen  from  it. 
So,  too,  with  all  tlie  rest  of  nature— the  sun,  the  stars, 
the  lightning,  the  thunder,  the  storm,  the  clouds,  light, 
vision,  and  finally  human  life,  and  human  passion  itself 
—all  is  to  be  treated  coldly  and  dispassionately:  inter- 
rogated and  cross-questioned  in  the  pure  spirit  of  prose, 
though  committed   nfter wards   into  a   form  of  verse. 
But  it  is  a  form  only— a  form  that  cannot  deceive  us. 
The  voice  is  still  Jacob's  voice,  though  the  hands  are 
the  hands  of  Esau.     But  it  is  enough  to  say  that  Lucre- 
tius, in  the  bulk  of  his  work,  writes  as  a  man  of  science; 
and  in  that  is  said  conclusively  that  he  cannot  be  writ- 
ing as  a  poet.     The  poet  and  the  man  of  science  may 
both  be  dealing  with  the  same  object;   but  the  poet, 
when  he  deals  with  nature,  tries  to  raise  the  common- 
place into  the  region  of  the  mysterious  ;  the  man  of 
science  tries  to  bring  down  the  mysterious  to  the  level 


of  the  commonplace.  And  even  when  the  tw^o  come  to 
the  same  conclusion  about  the  same  thing,  they  "vvould 
no  more  speak  the  same  words  or  think  the  same 
thoughts  about  it,  than  would  a  lover  and  a  physician 
who  were  watching  the  same  girl  dying. 

Considering,  therefore,  that  a  good  four  fifths  of  the 
work  of  Lucretius  is  intentionally,  and  in  its  very 
essence,  nothing  but  pure  prose — only  prose  versified 
— it  is  hardly  to  be  expected  that  it  will,  as  a  whole, 
give  us  the  pleasure  of  a  poem,  or  indeed  leave  us  with 
the  impression  that  we  have  been  reading  one.  Poetry, 
how^ever,  runs  everywhere  through  it,  like  metallic 
veins  in  an  ore;  and  this  poetry  is  of  a  very  high  and 
a  very  varied  quality  though  the  scattered  state  in 
which  it  has  thus  been  given  to  us  has  done  much  to 
hinder  its  popularit}^  and  apparently  made  its  author 
merely  a  poet's  poet  amongst  the  ancients,  as  it  has  left 
him  a  scholar's  poet  amongst  the  moderns. 

For  many  reasons  this  is  much  to  be  regretted,  so 
great  and  powerful,  as  a  poet's,  his  genius  was;  and 
not  this  only,  but  so  versatile.  Few  poets  of  antiquity 
show  such  a  range  of  power  and  feeling,  such  a  com- 
bination of  humor  with  gravity,  and  of  tenderness  with 
indignation.  Of  all  these  qualities  specimens  have  been 
given,  and  though  little  justice  can  be  done  to  them  in 
translation,  something  of  their  nature  will  be  suflS- 
ciently  obvious  to  the  reader.  There  are  one  or  two 
others  that  it  may  be  less  superfluous  to  dwell  upon. 
First  of  these  is  the  rude  fierce  vigor  of  his  imagina- 
tion, which  will  not  be  content  with  a  hazy  presenta- 
tion of  anything,  but  will  have  it  dragged  close  before 
us,  solid,  bare,  and  naked, — as  when,  in  discussing 
whether  the  universe  be  infinite,  he  bids  us  picture  its 
bound,  if  any  bound  there  be  to  it,  and  asks  what  will 


134 


LUCliETli^. 


[V 


LVCIIKTIUS  AS  A  POET. 


185 


H'C 


happen  then  if  we  were  to  liurl  a  jtivcliii  iuto  iliu  s]. 
beyond.  Iq  this  quality  of  keen  -  xteniul  observalioii, 
this  attention  to  the  niateriul  a>{iict  of  things,  tliis 
habit  of  conceiving  cverythin-  in  s(»nie  imaginable  or 
picturable  form,  he  seems  to  have  surpassed  all  tlie 
ancient  poets,  and  not  iiDfrequeutly  puts  us  in  mind  of 
Dante.  And  he  has  in  virtue  of  this  a  (luality  which 
makes  him,  in  one  particular  way,  seem  to  us  not  so 
much  an  ancient  as  a  modern,— that  is,  his  manner  of 
describing  scenery,  and  all  the  changing  aspects  of  the 
outer  world  Of  all  ancient  poets,  indeed,  he  is  per- 
haps the  most  picturesciue.  The  early  aspect  of  morn- 
ing, the  low  sunlight  striking  along  the  dewy  grasses, 
the  gray  mist  going  up  from  the  Likes  and  rivers— these, 
and  things  like  these,  he  describes  almost  as  Words- 
worth might  have  described  them.  There  are  other 
pictures,  too,  equally  vivid— such  as  that  of  the  square 
towers  of  a  town,  which,  as  we  ajiproach  them,  look 
rounded  in  the  haze  of  distance  ;  or  that  of  the  colored 
awnings  flapping  above  the  crowded  theatre  with  tho 
bright-colored  sunlighl,  pouring  down  through  them. 
Then,  again,  there  arc  descriptions  of  storms  and  storm- 
clouds,  their  shapes,  their  movements,  their  slow  weird 
changes,  which  are  not  unlike  the  verse  of  Shelley  or 
the  pictures  of  Turner,  and  to  which  no  counterpart 
can  be  found  in  ancient  literature.  There  are,  too,  a 
number  of  lesser  touches — such  as  his  mention  of  the 
way  in  which,  as  we  walk  at  morning,  our  faces  are 
brushed  by  the  dewy  threads  of  the  aniirs,  or  by 

floating  balls  of  thistle-down.     Whilst  to  heighten  the 
efifect  of  these,   and  to  fill  it  in.    we   have  peri)etual 
allusion  to  the  way  in  Avliich  our  other 
that  of  sight,  are  touclied  by  tho  (uiter  tinngs  of  miture; 
how  our  nostr'       *"  a-  inst  aice,  are  met  with  a  pungent 


smell  as  soon  as  a  night-light  is  extinguished  suddenly; 
or  now  the  air  by  the  seashore  breathes  on  our  faces 
salt,  with  the  moist  l)rine.  In  fact,  Lucretius,  more 
than  any  other  of  the  great  ancient  poets,  seems  to 
bring  back  to  us  the  atmo^ihere  of  the  past.  We  seem, 
as  we  read  him,  to  l)e  actually  breathing  the  air  that  he 
breathed,  to  be  smelling  the  same  smells,  and  hearing 
the  same  noises,  and  to  see  the  skies,  and  seas,  and 
hills,  through  the  same  liquid  distance. 

We  must  be  careful,  however,  not  to  read  our  own 
sentiments  into  Lucretius;  nor  to  think  that,  though 
lie  gives  us  all  the  pictures  of  storm,  and  cloud,  and 
sunsliiue,  of  sea  and  valley,  as  accurately,  and  with  as 
much  care,  as  a  modern  poet  might,  that  he  was  like  a 
modern  poet  in  his  feeling  about  them.  The  case  is 
quite  otherwise.  In  his  descriptions  of  nature,  Lu- 
cretius is  a  utilitarian,  not  a  sentimentalist.  His  de- 
scriptions are  not  pictures  :o  l)e  looked  at  for  them- 
selves; they  are  diagrams  to  illustrate  the  text  of  his 
scientific  discotirses.  Some  pleasure,  no  doubt,  even 
as  pictures,  they  did  give  to  him;  but  this  pleasure 
was  secondary,  and  in  many  cases  he  would  seem  to 
be  hardly  conscious  of  it.  Only  dimly,  and  in  the 
phape  of  the  animal  quickening  of  the  spirits  brought 
about  in  the  spring-time,  or  in  the  sensuous  pleasure  of 
f^'ing  on  green  grass  and  feeling  the  cool  shelter  of 
trees,  does  he  seem  to  have  realized  what  joy  a  man 
may  have  in  the  world's  outer  beauty.  And  in  this  he 
was  like  all  the  other  ancient,  as  contrasted  with  the 
modern  poets.  But  tlie  ancient  poets  as  a  rule  not 
only  felt  less  for  nature  than  we  do,  but  they  also  said 
less  about  it,  and  therefore  the  contrast  between  them 
and  us  is  less  striking. 

But    though  Lucretius  did  not,  as  Wordsworth  ©r 


im 


LUCRETIUS. 


Slielley  did,  nor  even  as  Aiisoniiis,  Claudian,  and  the 
later  Latiu  poets,  feel  the  beauty  of  nature  as  a  spec- 
tacle, moving  them  by  its  varied  outlines  and  its  ever- 
changing  shades  and  colors,  he  did  feel  to  the  full  the 
sublimity  of  it,  as  a  vast  immeasurable  force,  revealing 
itself  indiscriminately  now  in  this  way,  now  in  that — 
in  the  earthquake,  m  the  thunderstorm,  or  the  power 
of  turbulent  waters.  This  feeling,  however,  we  must 
remember  is  very  different  from  that  which  prompted 
such  lines  as  these: 


**  There  are  two  voices— one  is  of  the  sea, 
And  one  is  of  the  mountains— both  divine; 
They  were  iby  chosen  music,  Liberty." 

Nature  is  the  hero  of  the  poem  of  Lucretius;  but  it  is 
not  a  hero  that  has  any  sympathy  witli  man,  or  can  be 
anythmg  to  man,  excepting  in  so  far  as  man  can  use  it. 
For  ihe  rest  it  is  celebrated  as  a  thing  of  boundless 
power  and,  as  such,  a  thing  sublime  and  awful,  but  a 
thing  as  well  of  boundless  -impotence,  that  is  exalted 
by  the  poet,  only  to  be  again  dragged  down  by  him, 
and  which  hs  would  teach  man  to  look  at  with  fearless 
and  equal  eyes.  Lucretius  has  no  desire  to  worship 
Nature,  sublime  as,  in  its  potver,  he  feels  it  to  be.  He 
feels  rather  a  sense  of  still  greater  sublimity  in  achiev- 
ing the  splendid  victory  over  his  own  impulse  to  wor- 
ship it,  and  the  same  impulse  in  other  men,  by  which 
he  knows  that  tliey  too  are  tormented. 

This  is  the  one  notion  that  runs  through  his  whole 
poem;  he  is  man's  champion,  as  against  all  other  forces. 
He  tilts  like  a  knight-errant  against  every  form  of 
terror,  one  by  one  unhorsing  them,  and  leaving  them 
disarmed  and  prostrate;  charging  first  at  the  most  im- 
portunate and  the  most  formidable,  and  then,  having 


LUCRETIUS  AS  A  POET. 


137 


cleared    the    ground    li^^^"^    him,    demolishing  at  his 
leisure  the  ligiiter  and  nu»n-  scattered  squadrons. 

And  thus  though  his  poem,  as  we  have  said,  is  com- 
posed so  largely  of  what  is  properly  speaking  pure 
prose,  if  we  look  at  it  by  the  light  of  the  writer's  in- 
tention, instead  of  what  he  has  actually  accomplished, 
we  shall  come  to  see  in  it  the  outlines  of  a  true  poetic 
whole.  We  shall  see  that  there  is  in  it  something 
epic;  we  shall  see  in  it  one  single  purpose  being  worked 
out  to  its  end  without  pause — and  this  purpose  an 
heroic  one — the  destruction  by  a  mortal  man  of  all  the 
terrible  immortals,  and  the  robbing  the  whole  frame  of 
things  of  their  immemorial  menace.  We  shall  see  that 
in  the  arrangement  of  the  argument  there  is  poetic  art 
also,  as  it  gradually  rises  in  the  middle  to  the  demoli- 
tion of  that  stronghold  of  religion,  the  immortality  of 
the  soul,  and  then  slowly  brings  us  to  confront  lighter 
difficulties,  as  though  a  storm  were  slowly  drifting 
away  from  us,  and  letting  a  gradual  sunlight  in  on  us 
through  the  clearing  skies. 

Of  course,  in  view  of  this,  it  may  be  contended  by 
some  that  the  ''Essay  on  the  Nature  of  Things"  must 
take  rank,  as  a  whole,  as  a  great  complete  poem.  To 
a  certain  extent  disputes  of  this  kind  are  disputes  of 
words  merely,  and  there  is  little  good  in  pursuing 
them.  Perhaps  we  shall  gain  the  best  notion  of  the 
true  poetic  character  of  the  poem  of  Lucretius  as  a 
whole  by  comparing  it  to  the  history  of  Herodotus, 
which  has,  as  a  whole,  a  fully  equal  title  to  be  con- 
sidered poetry.  There  is  in  Herodotus  the  same  epic 
treatment,  the  same  ^w^.^/ artistic  massing  of  materials, 
the  same  constant  presence  of  potential  poetry,  the  same 
constant  presence  of  actual  prose.  But  in  the  fate  of 
the  two  writers  there  has  been  this   difference,  that 


188 


LUCRETIl 


LUCRETrrs  AjVD  modern  thought.  189 


whereas  the  poetry  of  Herotlotus  has  been  as  wings  to  his 
prose,  the  prose  of  Lucretius  has  been  a  dead  wei^dit 
on  his  poetry;  aud  in  addition  to  this,  there  is  yet 
another  misfortune  to  be  meotioued— tliat  tlie  poetry 
of  Lucretius  has  been  also  a  dead  weidit  uu  liis  science. 


CHAPTEPt  VL 

LUCRETIUS  AND  MODEKN    TIIOUiiHT. 

A  DEEPER  consideration  now  remains  for  us.  We  have 
seen  what  Lucretius  was  as  n  man  of  scieuw.  We 
have  seen  also  what    he  w ;  a    piut.     In  Ids  first 

capacity,  if  he  is  judged  on  ii  a  merits,  id.s  work 

will  seem  to  us  but  an  anti(iue  curiosily— a  laeee  of 
scientific  bric-a-brac.     Judged  of  as  a  jiort ,  w  <■  may  each 
give  him  what  place  we  will.     But  the  sj..  rial  tastes, 
neither  of   the  antiquary   nor  of    tiie   literary    critic, 
are  tastes  of  the  first  importance,  or  of  any  universal 
interest.     Books   were    made   for  men.    not    men   for 
books.     Art  and  poetry  are  valual-lc  only  if  they  can  be 
absorbed  into  life:  life  is  not  valuable  because  it  can  be 
absorbed  into  art  and  poetry.     And  thougli  Lucretius, 
as  a  distinct  subject  of  study,  may  ail"ord  keen  fileasure 
to  some  of  us,  and  seem  a  matter  of  really  very  grave 
moment,  we  should  recollect,  to  the  world  in  general, 
how  trivial  such  mer  ienfs  interests  arc.     Looking 

on  Lucretius,  however,  in  another  light,  not  a-  >(:]]o!ars. 
or  as  critics,  or  as  literary  epicures,  it  is  possible  to 
connect  him  with  other  interests  that  are  of  really  vital 
moment— interests  to  the  house  of  which  science,  and 
art,  and  Uterature,  are  jiroperly  only  doorkeepers.  And 
yet,  even  looked  upon  in  this  way,  he  will  suggests 


i 


thought,  rather  than  dictate  it.     To  many  of  us,  how- 
ever, he  can  hardly  fail  of  being  very  suggestive. 

To  begin  then.  We  have  already  seen  m  some 
detail  what  his  science  was.  Let  us  now  briefly  oonr~] 
pare  that  science,  aud  the  methods  it  was  founded  on, 
with  the  science  of  our  own  dav.  If  we  consider  the 
various  datails  of  his  theory  of  things,  and  judge  of 
these  by  the  exact  form  which  he  gave  to  them,  it  is, 
of  course,  plain  at  a  glance  how  remote  they  are  from 
what  we  now  hold  to  be  true.  It  will  be  seen,  to  a 
certain  extent,  that  this  could  not  be  otherwise,  if  we 
merely  consider  what  his  conception  was  of  the  size  and 
shape  of  the  universe — a  conception  which  he  seems  to 
have  adopted  wdtli  but  small  reflection,  and  the  truth  of 
which  he  took  but  small  pains  to  verify. 

But  his  science  difT<^rs  from  ours  in  a  deeper  way  than 
in  any  such  superficial  grotesqueness  of  detail.  The 
entire  foundation  of  his  system  is  essentially  defective 
and  insecure.  His  first  principles  are  crude,  loose,  and 
puerile.  Such,  for  instance,  is  his  conception  of  grav- 
ity, and  this  conception  is  the  corner-stone  of  his  whole 
edifice.  Weight,  as  he  explains  it  (weight  with  him 
being  the  one  motor  power  in  the  universe),  and  the 
tendency  of  every  substance  to  be  forever  falling  down- 
wards, is,  .strictly  speaking,  unthinkable.  How,  in  in- 
finit}^  can  there  be  either  an  ?/;)or  down?  Starting  with 
a  premise  like  this,  it  is  clearly  impossible  that  he  can 
know  anything  .scientifically  of  the  laws  of  motion.  It 
is  evident  then,  even  if  we  go  no  further,  from  the  very 
nature  of  the  case,  what  a  want  there  will  be  in  any 
explanation  he  can  possibly  have  to  offer  us. 

And  there  are  many  more  wants  of  a  like  kind — an 
absence  of  many  conceptions  which  we  now  see  to  be 
essential  to  a  true  understanding  of  almost  anything. 


140 


I VCRETIUS. 


%;■■ 


Chief  amongst  these  is  his  incapacity  to  conceive  of  the 
propagation  of  energy  without  the  propagation  of  mat- 
ter. Of  how  things  can  interact  on  each  otlier  from  a 
distance  by  means  of  waves,  of  tremors,  of  vibrations, 
he  knows  nothing,  he  dreams  nothing.  All  material 
interaction  is  conceived  of  by  him  in  tlie  crude  form  of 
material  projection.  A  word,  for  instance,  is  a  body 
witli  a  definite  shape,  which  strikes  our  ears  as  a  stone 
miglit .  Our  sight  of  a  door  is  produced  by  the  whole  of 
that  door's  surface  striking  our  eyes,  as  a  stone  might. 
And  all  kindred  phenomena  are  explained  in  a  like  way. 

With  so  narrow  and  incomplete  a  conception  of  the 
powers  that  matter  might  possess,  and  of  the  aspects 
under  wliich  it  was  necessary  to  study  and  observe 
it,  it  is  evident  that  under  no  circumstances  could 
he  have  arrived  at  any  real  truth  about  things.  And 
even  on  his  own  showing  his  own  first  principles 
are  quite  inadequate,  and  he  is  perpetually  mak- 
mg  to  them  certain  vague  and  unacknowledged  addi- 
tions. To  take,  for  instance,  his  theory  of  vision,  and 
the  perpetual  emanation  of  films  from  the  surface 
of  things,  he  makes  no  attempts  to  explain  why  this 
emanation  takes  place.  Matter,  according  to  him, 
tends  to  always  fall,  unless  forced  upwards  by  other 
matter,  or  unless  rebounding  off  it.  If  this  be  the  only 
tendency  of  matter,  it  is  clearly  inexplicable  why  the 
surface  of  everything  should  be  for  ever  flying  off  from 
it,  at  an  incalculable  velocity, —not  downwards  only, 
but  upwards  and  sideways  also. 

Again,  he  seems  often  to  have  a  momentary  glimpse 
of  laws,  with  which,  as  if  by  accident,  he  explains  some 
single  phenomenon,  and  then  forgets  and  never  again 
recurs  to  them.  Thus  he  seems  to  have  some  notion 
that  the  velocity  of  falling  bodies  will  be  in  some  pro- 


\ 


LUORETIxrs  AND  MODERN  THOUGHT.  141 

portion  to  the  .listance  .hey  have  to  fall.    It  is  in  this 
S  he  explains  the  exfen>e  heat  of  the  m.d  .lay  sun 
;  e  fiUns  of  the  sun,  he  says,  have  so  far  to  fall  tha 
,vhen  they  reach  us  they  strike  us  very  forc.hly.    But 
Tf  the  property  of  l.o.lies  that  this  explanatton  really 
implies,  he  takes  no  further  notice  whatsoever 

Again,  many  of  his  explanations  are  actually  no  ex 
planations  at  all.     In  his  theory  of  vision,  foi  instance 
he  make,  no  attempt  of  any  kind  to  explain  why      e 
eyes  are  sensitive,  and  they  alone,  to  the  ac  ion  o    the 
vSalfihnsof  things.     In  his  account  of  the  b.rh  of 
the  first  human  beings  from  the  earth  itself,  Le  simply 
states  a  number  of  facts  v^hicli,  even  had  they  been 
true  would  have  need  of  explanation  themse  ves,  just 
a,  much  as  the  thing  they  purported  to  explain ;  and 
a-rain  there  are  a  number  of  other  cases  in  which  he 
only  becomes  more  definite  by  deserting  altogether  his 
own  first  principles,  and  supplanting  them,  for  the  time 
being  with  those  of  the  earlier  physicists,  and  attnbut- 
i„.  to  Inanimate  matter  the  qualities  of  a  living  organ- 
sm.     He  thus,  as  an  explanation  of  the  movements  of 
some  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  says  that  they  possibly 
luder  pasturing  through  the  fields  oMieaven  e  '^ 
one  seeking  after  its  own  proper  food.     And  he  thinks 
rke^se  ;;t  he  has  explained  the  appearance  o   vege^ 
tation  on  the  earth's  surface,  by  saying  that  i    g.ew 
from  it  as  hairs  do  from  the  skins  of  some  animals,  and 
fpathers  from  the  skins  of  others. 
^Thls  is  a  subject  that  can  only  be  touc.^d  on  here  in 
the  briefest  and  most  cursory  way.    That  Lucietms 
did  mtle  to  explain  the  actual  truth  of  tbmgs.sev.den 
enough,  without  any  comment  at  all.    And  enough  has 
nowLn  said  to  show  that  even  had  he  possessed  far 
better  means  for  investigating  the  facts  of  nature,  he 


■^Ipiii^ii**' 


142 


iMCBKnrs. 


would  have  hvan  siill  unable  to  explain  them,  from  his 
confused  and  limited  notiou  of  the  ways  in  which  that 
explanation  was  to  be  sought. 

The  aim  of  science  is  to  simplify  as  far  as  possible 
the  multiplicity  of  phenomena.— to  trace  in  them  the 
actions  of  common  lawa  and  princii)les,  and   thus   to 
reduce  the  mystery  of  existence  to  a  minimum,  if  not 
lo  do  away  with  it  altoi^-ether.      And   this  Lucretius 
tloes  not  do.     lie  states  his  princii)les  clearly,  and  he 
continually  employs  them.     But  they  are  never  really 
adequate;  and  there  are  also  many  cases  in  which  ho 
docs  not  employ  them  at  all;  and  many  others  in  which, 
though  they  are  employed,  they  are  supplemented  by 
him  unconsciously  by  additional  principles,  with  whicb 
he  makes  no  attempt  to  bring  them  into  any  connection. 
And  thus  his  whole  system,  in  the  form  he  gave  it.  is 
utterly  unsound  and  unstable;  and  even  though  it  could 
not   be  disproved    from  without,    it  would  have   the 
principles  of  its  own  confutation  within. 

"Partly  a  cause  and  partly  a  result  of  this  was  the  im- 
perfect  method  which  Lucretius  for  the  most  part  fol- 
io wed.  The  method  on  which  his  conclusions  reste^i 
was  for  the  most  part  that  of  analogy,  not  of  induction 
These  two  methods  are  not  opposed  to  each  other,  noi 
are  they  mutually  exclusive.  The  first  is  properly  the 
supplement  of  the  second;  the  second  is  the  critic  of 
the  first.  Analogy  suggests  explanations;  induction 
chooses  between  those  suggested.  To  modern  science 
this  choice  is  all-important.  Lucretius  seems  to  think 
it  comparatively  immaterial.  Modern  science  interro- 
gates Nature  with  a  view  to  showing  how  things  are 
accomplished.  The  science  of  Lucretius  interrogated 
Nature  with  a  view  to  showing  how  things  might  be 
accomplished.     And  thus  it  is  that  such  science  as  liis 


LUCRETIUS  AM)  MODERN  THOUGET.  143 

was  in  its  very  nature  not  progressive,  and  could  give 
nieu  no  additional  mastery  over  matter. 

Nor,  indeed,  did  it  even  aim  at  doing  so.     The  spirit 
that  inspired  it,  and  the   spirit   that   inspires  modern 
science,  are  dilTerent  things.     Knowledge,  for  its  own 
sake,  is  the  first  thing  desired  by  the  latter.     Knowl- 
edge, for  the  sake  of  discrediting  supernatural  agency, 
is  the  first  thing  desired  by  the  former.     So  far  as  his 
mere  analysis  of  matter  goes,  it  is  true  that  Lucretius 
employs  a  more  accurate  method  of  reasoning  than  that 
of  mere  analogy.     He  gives  us  there  instances  of  gemi- 
lue,  if  of  somewhat  crude,  induction.     But  from  that 
point  forward  his  main  concern  is  to  suggest  the  possi- 
ble, rather  than  discern  the  actual.    The  skeleton  of  his 
argument  is  as  follows:  "We  see  a  number  of  things 
happen   day  by  day.  which  we  all  of  us  admit  to  be 
natural,  and  which  we  attribute  to  no  divine  agency. 
Every  event  that  men  say  the  gods  accomplish,  I  can 
show,  by  strict  analogy,  is  no  more  supernatural  than 
these' are,  and  i«  no  jot  more  wonderful."    Thus,  when    , 
he  says  that  thunder  is  often  caused  by  the  bursting  of^ 
a  cloud  distant  with  wind,  as  a  bladder  bursts,  his  aim 
is  not  so  much  to  show  that  such  is  the  actual  cause  of 
thunder,  as  that  thunder,  whatever  its  cause,  is  really 
as  homely  a  phenomenon  as  one  of   the  most  trivial 
events  of  life,  that  we  all  admit  has  nothing  divine 
about  it      This  will  account,  too,  for  his  fancying  he 
has  explained  the  acl4on  of  lifeless  matter,  by  compar- 
ing it  to  the  action  or  growth  of  an  animal.     The  sup- 
pressed premiss  is,  the  animal  is  not  divine.     It  seeks 
its  food   or  its  feathers  grow,  without  the  intervention 
of  the  crods.     The  aid  of  the  gods  is  no  more  needful  to 
explain  why  the  stars  roam  through  heaven,  or  why 
Uving  things  grow  from  the  lifeless  earth. 


144 


LUCIIETIUS. 


LUCRETIUS  AND  MODERN  THOUGHT.  145 


But  great  as  are  the  dilTerences  between  this  science 
of  Lucretius  and  that  of  uiodern  times,  we  must  not 
forget  how  much  they  have  iu  aminion.  His  very 
method  is  but  a  part  of  the  modern  method,  or  rather 
it  may  be  said  tiiat  it  is  the  modern  metho<l  in  its 
infancy.  Botli  start  with  the  same  fundamental  notion, 
that  for  the  sum  of  things  tliere  may  be  found  a  natural 
explanation;  that  everything  is  {lart  of  a  single  order; 
that  this  order  is  to  be  uuderstood  by  observation,  not 
by  assumption;  that  the  only  organs  of  observation  arc 
the  senses;  and  that  the  unknown,  which  the  senses 
cannot  reach  directly,  they  can  reach  indirectly  through 
the  known  that  is  immediately  before  them.  Thus  one 
of  the  most  grotesque  of  the  doctrines  of  TiUcretius — 
that  of  the  size  of  the  sun,  moon,  and  star.-:,  —is  founded, 
as  lias  been  observed  already,  on  an  ai)proach  to  the 
true  method. 

Bui  not  only  in  many  places  does  he  approach  the 
true  method,  but  in  his  more  general  views  of  things  he 
all  but  arrives  at  what  are  now  held  to  ]»e  the  true  con- 
clusions. His  general  forecast  of  what  the  order  of 
things  mus*  ^''  =s  the  same  as  that  of  our  modern  specu- 
lators. Ill-  -vu-nlilic  i^rcseience  is  the  same  as  theirs; 
only  he  is  like  a  ^losi^,  who  may  merely  see  the 
promised  land  afar,  lie  cannot  go  over  Jordan  and 
make  it  really  his  o%vn,  see  what  are  the  actual  grapes 
that  grow  there,  and  enter  into  the  fities  walled  up  to 
heaven,  lie  has  planned  a  cunquest,  but  he  has  not 
really  made  it, 

IIow  insecure  his  structure  was.  how  easily  injured 
by  the  very  arguments  by  wliich  it  was  supported — 
what  a  contrast  it  jireseuts  in  this  way  to  the  structure 
of  modern  scienre—niu-t  be  apparent  to  any  one  who 
examines  it.     There  is  hardly  a  detail  in  it  that  does 


V 


^Jl 


Jtt 


i' 


not  exemplify  this.     For  instance,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered that  he  explains  the  phenomenon  of  reflection,  by 
saying  that  images  rebound  from  things  that  are  smooth 
and  hard.     An  antagonist  might  at  once  ask  him  how 
he  accounted  for  the  reflections  iu  water.     lie  lays  it 
down  in  s}ieaking  of  t!ie  soul  entering  the  body,  that 
•'  whatever  ooza's  in  through  another  thing  is  dissolved, 
and  therefore  dies.'     An  antagonist  might  ask  him  how. 
were  this  true,  image>  rould  pass  through  glass.    Again, 
as  to  these  same  ima'ges,  it  might  be  asked  of  him  how 
things  so  fine,  as  he  conceives  them  to  he,  could  carry 
air  before  them,  as  he  says  tl.ey  do;    or  how  this  air 
could  pa.ss.  as  on  his  principles  it  must,  through  trans- 
parent things,  which  are  evidently  air-proof.    In  another 
place  he  says  that,  "if  the  mind  be  immortal,  it  must 
have  five  senses.      But  there  can  be  no  senses  apart 
from  the  bod  v."     And  yet  he  attributes  to  the  mind 
one  of  the  most  important  of  all  the  sen>es— namely, 
sight.      It  sees,  he  says,  just  as  the  eyes  do.  only  its 
vision  is  provoked  by  finer  images.     In  his  account  of 
the  voice,  and  the  way  in  which  we  hear  it.  he  says 
that  a  word  as  soon  as  it  is  uttered  splits  up  into  a 
number  of  words,  and  can  thus  l)e  heard  by  a  number 
of  people  at  tlie  same  time.     His  ..wn  manner  of  rea- 
soniug  might  be  used  against  him  here.     Words  being 
material,   cannot  be  infinitely  divisible.     If  they  split 
into  any  great   number,  they  will   become   inaudible. 
But  it  may  be  said  that  when  we  hear  a  word,  a  num- 
ber of  such  words  enter  our  ears.     Were  that  so,  the 
more  people  tliere  were  within  reach  of  a  voice,  rtie 
weaker  to  each  one  would  that  voice  sound,  as  there 
would  be  fewer  of  these  wandering  words  to  enter  the 
ears  of  each;  and  thus,  suppose  a  room  were  filled  with 
a  thousand  people,  each  of  these  would  hear  worse  than 


146 


Lucai'yjns. 


if  it  were  only  filled  with  a  huiidred  people.  These  are 
but  a  fi-w  instances  out  of  many,  of  the  way  ia  which 
Lucretius  can  be  confuted  by  his  own  reasoning. 

But  if  we  consider  the  general  result  ot  his  teaching 
-his  first  principles  and  his  last  cuiielusious-if  we 
consider  these  as  he  taught  theiri,  and  not  the  ways  bv 
which  he  arrived  at  and  supported  them,  we  sha  1  ^r. 
that   as  far  as  ti  >,  Ids  message  t<.  il..'  world  and 

tliat'of  modern  .ci.ncc  i.  practically  identical.    Human 
life   in  both  'li>'  same  momentary  phenom- 

encm  in  the  great  un<l  ever-changing  evolution  of 
thincs.  It  is  the  result  (.f  a  power  that  knew  not  wliat 
it  did  in  creating  il.  A  little  while  it  is.  and  agani  a 
little  while  and  it  is  not.  It  is  but  a  bubble  o„  he 
surface  of  the  great  dux  of  matter.  It  is  an  isolate. 
thing,  connected  with  no  interests  l>-yo.id  itsrlt.  It 
is  to  be  judged  of  and  ordered  with  ieferer.ce  to  itse  f 
solely.      It    i>   to   be   vabi.-d  solely  on  account   ot    its 

-^,^/i    ••!)    jh*'<;*»  rpsources   ure   to  be 
present   resources,   and   all   incst  it>oun.A..-i 

expressed  in  terms  of  roM.ciou.  and  of  realized  happi- 
ness. Luereti>.  ■  thn  as  distinctly,  and  thought 
lie  could  prove  it  as  surely,  as  Fiotess.ir  Huxley  oi 
Vucnista  Comtc.  In  relation  to  human  life  then-in 
rehUion,  that  is.  to  the  thing  that  alone  gives  anv- 
thing  any  interest  for  us-the  materialism  of  Lueretiiu. 
and  the  materiidism  of  our  own  day  are  in  exactly  the 

same  |>osition. 

But  this  lead-  us  on  to  the  consideration  of  another 
and  a  deeper  difference  than  any  we  have  before  been 
dwelliu-  on.     Tl  that  life  itself  is  not  the  same 

thin<^  for  u-  a^  it  wa.  for  Lucretius.  Men's  eyes  have 
beeiropcned  since  \n.  d.y ,  and  they  have  become  con- 
scious of  new  .Ufflculties;  they  have  had  new  experi- 
ences of  which  he  knew  little  or  nothing,     bince  Ue 


LUCllETIUS  AM)    MODEUX  THOUGHT.  147 

lived,  religion  and  }>hilosophy  have  transmuted  the  face 
of  life,  and  have  unfolded  in  human  nature  capacities 
that  were  before  not  bargained  for. 

To  begin  witii  wliat  is  commonly  called  philosophy, 
it  can  hardly  fail  to  strike  anv  one  who  is  in  the  least 
acquainted  witli  nietajiliysical  speculation  ^low strangely 
confused  Lucretius  is  in  liis  treatment  of  mind  and 
matter;  how  little  he  sec-  the  ditliculty  of  tracing  the 
connection  l)et\v(^en  the  universe  we  are  conscious  of, 
and  the  mind  that  is  conscious  of  it;  how  little  he  sees 
what  sensation  really  is;  how  completely  he  confounds 
it  with  the  external  cause  that  produces  it.  To  say 
that  without  a  mind  to  conceive  what  we  call  the  uni- 
verse, no  uni\«;-r  is  conceival)le, — to  say  that  mind 
creates  matter  just  as  truly  as  matter  creates  mind, — is, 
to  any  one  at  all  trained  in  exact  thinking,  a  common- 
plac(\  But  to  the  whole  side  of  the  question  here  indi- 
cated Lucretius  seems  an  entire  stranger.  Many  of  our 
most  eminent  modern  physicists  are  practically  much 
in  his  case,  it  is  true;  and  remind  us.  to  quote  the 
words  of  one  of  theiM>elves.  "  wliat  drivellers  even  men 
of  strenuous  intellect  may  become,  through  exclusively 
dwelling  and  dealing  wi;h."  n<»t.  as  this  writer  says, 
"theological  chimeras,"  but  with  the  physical  side  of 
things  merely,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  metaphysical. 
But  they,  tliough  they  practically  lose  sight  of  the  other 
side  of  the  question,  yet  theoretically  acknowledge,  for 
the  most  part,  that  the  other  side  exists;  and  is  only 
not  a  subject  for  study,  because  it  is  so  great  a  mystery 
that  no  study  can  unravel  it.  The  following  are  the 
words  of  Professor  Tyudall: 

"  The  passage  from  the  physics  of  the  brain  to  the  correspond- 
ing facts  of  consciousness  is  untliinkatjle.  Granted  that  a  defl- 
iiite  thought  and  a  definite  molecular  action  in  the  brain  occur 


148 


LUCREriUS. 


Bimultaneonsl'  '     not  possess  the  intellectual  organ,  nor 

apparently  any  i  u  uuitut  of  tlie  organ,  which  would  enable  us  to 
pass  by  a  \>vov<-  <'<*  reasoning  from  the  one  to  the  other.  They 
appear  tOK'etli.  we  do  not  kiu  av  why.    Were  our  mind  and 

senses  so  expaiiat^l  ;.  and  f.-el  the  very  niol.'cules  of  the 

brain -were  we  capabU-  ..f  following  all  their  motions,  all  their 
groupings,  a^  their  electric  discharges,  if  such  there  be;  and 
were  we  intimately  acciuainted  with  the  corresponding  state  of 
thought  and  feeling.— we  should  be  as  far  as  ever  from  the  solu- 
tion of  the  i)roblem,  'How  are  these  i»liysieal  processes  con- 
nected with  the  facts  of  consciousness^'  The  cliasm  between 
the  two  classes  of  phenomena  would  remain  intellectually  im- 
passable." 

But  of  this  difficult}'  Lucretius  knows  nothing.  He 
does  not  see  that  two  classes  of  phenomena  exist  at  all, 
and  how  closely  each  is  dependent  upon  the  other.  As 
a  sug.i^estive  illustration  of  tiie  gulf  between  his  mind 
and  ale  modern  mind  with  regard  to  this  question,  we 
may  compare  his  words  with  the  words  of  a  modern 
poet,  where  the  two  are  contemplating  the  same  event, 
and  expressing  it  in  almost  the  same  language.  A  pas- 
sage in  which  Lucretius  speaks  of  the  destruction  of  the 
existing  universe  has  been  already  quoted,  describing 
how  one  day  it  sliall  all  crumble,  melt,  and  utterly  pass 
away,  and  leave  nothing  behind  it  but  invisible  atoms 
and  deserted  space.  Exactly  the  same  thing  has  been 
said  in  words  which  we  all  know  far  better. 

"  Like  the  baseless  fabric  of  this  vision, 
The  cloud-capt  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces. 
The  solemn  temples,  the  great  globe  itself, 
Yea,  all  which  it  inherit,  shall  dissolve, 
And,  like  this  insubstantial  pageant  faded. 
Leave  not  a  rack  behind.    We  are  such  stuff 
As  dreams  are  made  of,  and  our  little  life 
Is  rounded  with  a  sleep." 

But  how  differently  do  Lucretius  and  Shakespeare  con- 


■.«W    ^\ftA.•t.^ 


ifiLTi.  i»  ^vCt 


■uMnmsz'fss- 


LUCRETIUS  AND  MODERN  THOUGHT.  149 


ceive  of  the  same  catastrophe  that  is  predicted  in  the 
verse  of  both  of  them!    Lucretius  simply  means  that 
the  world  which  is  made  up  of  atoms  will  be  one  day 
shattered,  and  become  atoms  again;  it  will,  in  short,  be 
pulverized  and  reduced  to  the  dust  that  it  was  made  of. 
But  Shakespeare  means  far  more  than  this.    To  him 
the  atoms  and  the  dust  are  no  more  lasting  than  the 
universe  that  has  been  built,  or  that  has  built  itself,  out 
of  them.     They,  too,  are  an  insubstantial  pageant  like- 
wise; they,  too,  have  no  existence  but  in  dreams— the 
dreams  the  stuff  of  which  we  ourselves  are  made  of. 
The  language  of  Shakespeare  may  not  be  strictly  philo- 
sophical, but  it  expresses  a  meaning  that  is  at  the  root 
of  all  philosophy;  it  expresses  a  meaning  which  Lucre- 
tius seems  to  have  had  no  glimpse  of.  . , 
But  not  only  is  his  position  with  regard  to  philos-j 
ophy  so  different  to  what  ours  is;  his  position  with 
reiiard  to  the  worth  of  life,  and  religion  as  connected 
with    life,   is  even   more    different.     The  crude  and 
puerile  theology  with  which  he  had  to  combat,  it  was 
easy  enough  to  prove  a  useless  factor  in  any  theory  of 
the  conduct  or  existence  of   life.      Starting  with  his 
empty  space  and  atoms,  as  the  raw  material  of  every- 
thing, he  could  show  easily  enough  that  no  such  gods 
as  the  world,  he  knew,  believed  in,  could  be  of  any  as- 
sistance in  explaining  how  the  universe  was  manufac- 
tured.    But  the  God  which  modern  science  encounters, 
and  whose  aid  it  is  endeavoring  to  dispense  with,  is 
a  very  different  God  from  these:  He  is  a  God  to  whom 
time  and  space  are  nothing,  and  who   is  behind  the 
atoms  themselves,   making   them  what  they  are,  and 
being  the  one  cause  of  their  existence.     The  ways  in 
which  modern  theists  have  expressed  the  connection 
of  God  with  the  world,  and  the  creation  of  the  world, 


150 


LUCRETIUS. 


LUCRETIUS  AND   MODERN  THOUGHT.  151 


have  been  very  various  both  in  form  and  meaning. 
But — to  take  as  an  instance  such  a  phrase  as  tliis, 
"  The  universe  is  a  tlion<^iit  of  God." — tliey  one  and  all 
show  us  how  dilTerent  :i  thing  is  the  theism  we  are 
calling  in  question  now,  to  that  which  was  called  in 
question  in  the  ancient  world.  And  tiiat  theism  has 
thus  grown  a  profounder  thing,  sliows  us  also  how  the 
w^orld  has  grown  more  and  more  to  see  the  profundity 
of  the  enigma  of  existence  for  which  it  has  held  theism 
to  be  the  onlv  solution. 

The  mere  enigma  of  existence,  however,  is  not  the 
only  one  that  now  confronts  us.  We  find  ourselves 
perplexed  by  problems  that  are  yet  more  importunate, 
and  yet  more  difficult  to  deal  with — problems  not  con- 
cerning the  origin  of  the  world,  and  of  life  and  con- 
sciousness, but  with  the  use  to  be  made  of  life  and 
consciousness  when  originated.  Men  during  the  last 
two  thousand  years  have  been  growing  more  and  more 
conscious  of  a  worth,  a  solemnity,  and  a  purpose  in 
human  life.  They  liave  felt  more  and  more  that  it 
must  have  some  important  end;  they  have  been 
troubled  more  and  more  with  aspirations  towards 
things  they  have  named  holy,  and  high,  and  sacred. 
They  have  become  convinced  that  these  are  the  things 
they  ouglit  to  live  for,  and  that  life  is  something 
worse  than  worthless  if  they  fail  to  do  so.  And  all 
this  inward  consciousness  has  associated  itself,  and 
been  absorbed  into  their  conception  of  God, — a  God  to 
whom  they  felt  that  they  were  rising,  and  who  on  his 
part  was,  they  felt,  condescending  to  them. 

Whilst,  however,  the  ideal  of  life  has  been  thus  grow- 
ing, thus  taking  a  grander  and  more  august  shape,  and 
been  catching  brighter  colors  and  a  purer  light,  the 
actual  facts  of  life  have  remained  much  the  same.  And 


I 


thus  the  contrast  between  what  ought  to  be  and  what  is 
has  grown  more  marked,  more  painful,  and  more  per- 
plexing, and  men  have  come  to  be  tortured  with  a 
new  set  of  doubts  and  questions.  Is  the  moral  life 
only  a  dream?  If  it  be  not— if  it  be  the  real  end  of 
man— how  is  it  that  it  seems  so  few  can  attain  to  it?  If 
justice  bo  the  thing  that  in  some  moods  we  feel  it  to  be, 
how  is  it  that  injustice  seems  everywhere  to  have  the 
mastery? 

Germs  of  this  view  of  life  are  doubtless  to  be  traced 
in  Lucretius;  but  they  were  not  distinct  enough  in 
liis  mind,  or  often  enough  present  with  him,  to  perplex 
his  view  of  things,  and  his  facile  explanation  of  the 
universe.  How  easily,  for  instance,  and  with  what 
slipshod  ingenuity,  does  he  dispose  of  the  problem  of 
free-will:  How  little  does  he  see  how  much,  at  least 
lo  some  mens  reason,  raay  seem  to  hang  on  a  denial 
of  iti  The  contrast  between  his  attitude  and  that  of 
men  in  later  ages,  in  the  presence  of  the  same  facts, 
and  trained  in  the  same  school  of  reasoning,  is  illus- 
trated very  forcibly  by  a  comparison  between  him  and 
the  Persian  philosopher-poet,  Omar  Khayyam,  now  so 
well  known  to  English  readers  through  the  translation 
of  Mr.  Fitzgerald.  Omar,  like  Lucretius,  was  a  mate- 
rialist; and  like  Lucretius,  by  virtue  of  his  materialism, 
was  a  disbeliever  in  all  theology.  But  to  Lucretius 
this  disbelief  was  pure  gain.  For  the  Persian,  it  raises 
as  many  problems  as  it  solves.  Both  say  alike  that 
there  is  no  God,  and  no  life  hereafter.  But  Lucretius 
says  this  with  an  earnest  and  grave  content.  Omar 
says  it  with  a  fierce  despair,  and  would  reason  and  ob- 
servation let  him,  he  would  gladly  embrace  the  faith 
that  he  is  thrusting  from  him;  and  this  gives  to  his 
language  a  passiouate  bitterness  that  iu  Lucretius  is 


152 


LUCRETIUS. 


LUCRETIUS  AND  MODERN  TIIOUOIIT.  153 


quite  wanting.  The  presence  of  a  mindless  uniformity 
everywhere,  that  takes  no  heed  of  man,  and  knows 
nothing  of  him.  Lucretius  contemplates  with  com- 
placency. Oniiii  iliscerns  in  such  a  spectacle  food  for 
another  temper.  He  see  that  not  only  is  nature  thus 
"  rid  of  her  haughty  lords,"  which  is  all  that  Lucretius 
sees,  but  that  tiie  soul  of  man  is  rid  also  of  its  desire, 
and  its  comforter.  He  does  not  congratulate  men  upon 
this  discovery;  he  commistrales  them.  There  is  no 
help  anywhere,— this  is  wiiat  he  says  to  them:  there 
is  no  help  anywhere,  and  who  will  show  us  any 
good? 

"  And  that  inverted  Itowl  th>-v  call  the  sky, 
Whereunder  crawHnp.  cooped,  wp  live  and  die. 

Lift  not  your  hands  to  //  for  help—for  It 
As  impotently  rules  as  you  or  I. 

With  earth's  first  clay  tliey  did  the  last  iiiaii  knead, 
And  there  of  the  last  harvest  sowed  tlie  seed; 

And  fhe  first  morning  of  creation  wrote 
What  the  last  daun  of  reckoning  shall  read. 

Yesterday  r/us  days  madness  tlid  prepare, 
To-nn>rr<t\vs  silence,  triuiiqih.  or  despair: 

Drink:  for  you  know  not  whenee  you  come,  nor  why: 
Drink!  for  you  know  not  why  you  go.  nor  where  '• 

And  here  again,  wlien  urging  every  argument  he  can 
think  of  to  prove  how  self-contradictory  is  the  very 
conception  of  a  God,  there  is  the  same  note  of  despair 
audible  at    the    discovery   that    these    contradictious 

"  What!  out  of  senseless  Nothing  to  provoke 
A  conscious  Something,  to  resent  the  yoke 

Of  unpermitted  pleasure,  under  pain 
Of  everlasting  penalties  if  broke! 


*  mi 


What!  from  his  helpless  creature  be  repaid, 
Pure  gold  for  what  he  lent  us  dross  allayed— 

Sue  for  a  debt  we  never  did  contract. 
And  cannot  answer— oh,  the  sorry  trade! 

Oh  Thou  who  didst  with  pitfall  and  with  gin 
Beset  the  road  I  was  to  wander  in, 

Thou  wilt  not  with  predestined  evil  round 
Emesh,  and  then  impute  my  fall  to  sin  I 

Oh  Thou  who  man  of  baser  earth  didst  make, 
And  even  with  Paradise  devise  the  snake, 

For  all  the  sin  wherewith  the  face  of  Man 
Is  blackened,  Man's  forgiveness  give— and  takel" 

And  the  same  painful  and  unsatisfied  cry,— the  same 
confession  that  the  burden  of  the  problem  of  life, 
whether  interpreted  by  faith  or  science,  is  a  burden  too 
great  for  him  to  bear,— bursts  out  in  these  verses  with 
yet  more  distinctness. 

"  Would  but  the  desert  of  the  fountain  yield 
One  glimpse— if  dimly,  yet  indeed  revealed, 
To  which  the  fainting  traveller  can  spring, 
As  springs  the  trampled  herbage  of  the  field  I 

Would  but  some  winged  Angel,  ere  too  late, 
Arrest  the  yet  unfolded  roll  of  Fate, 

And  make  the  stern  recorder  otherwise 
Enregister  or  quite  obliterate !  . 

Ah  Love!  could  you  and  I  with  Him  conspire 
To  grasp  this  sorry  scheme  of  things  entire, 
Would  we  not  shatter  it  to  bits-and  then 
Remould  it  nearer  to  the  heart's  desire!  " 

Of  language  like  this  there  is  scarcely  a  trace  in  Lu- 
cretius. Life,  it  is  true,  he  looks  upon  as  in  many  ways 
a  gloomy  thing.  Even  at  its  best  he  does  not  seem  to 
set  a  high  value  on  it.  But  were  it  freed  from  the  evils 
which  men  themselves  make  for  themselves,  it  would 
be,  he  thinks,  a  desirable  possession,  yielding  us,  while 


154 


L  UCRETim. 


LUCUmiUlS  AND  MODEUN  TUOUGUT.  155 


it  last(?d,  a  tmnqnil  and  sufficient  pleasure,  though  not 
pleasure  various  or  great  enough  to  make  us  wish  for 
its  prolongation  beyond  its  usual  term.  At  all  events, 
liowever  nuich  lie  values  it.  or  however  little  he  values 
it,  there  is  nothing  in  it  to  him  of  that  painful  mystery 
by  which  the  heart  of  the  modern  world  has  been  tor- 
tured, and  before  which  the  modern  world  is  now  stand- 
ing with  a  fresh  pang  of  amazement. 

It  then,  we  would  seek  in  Lucretius  for  any  thoughts 
or  considerations  beyond    those  valued    only  by  the 
student,  the  bookworm,  and   the  critic,  we  siiall  find 
that  they  lie  in  this— in  the  way  in  which  lie  brings 
home  to  us  the  advance  which  the  world  has  made, 
not  so  much  in   the  means  for  solving  the  riddle  of 
things,  as  in  the  knowledge  of  how  hard  and  how^  com- 
plicated the  riddle  is.     We  have,  it   is   true,  ampler 
means  for  discovering  true  answers;  but  the  question 
grows  before  us  far  more  rajndly  than  the  answer  does. 
Further  and  further,  certainly  and  more  certainly,  are 
men   pushing   their  conquests  into  regions   that  were 
once  mysterious,  and  yet  tlie  mystery  that  has  not  been 
conquered  remains  more  formida])le  than  ever;  or  else, 
if  we  would  fain  have  nothiui,^   of   mystery  at  all    a 
choice  confronts   us  more  momentous   than  was  ever 
offered  to  the  ancient  world.      Either  man's  life  is  a 
mystery  to  be  solved  by  no  scientific  method,  a  mystery 
which  no  scientific  method  so  nuich  as  sheds  a  glimmer 
of  light  on— either  tliere  is  an  order  of  things  which 
the  proofs  and  verilications  of    the  physicists  cannot 
touch,  or  even  go  near  to,  things  sui)ernatural,  super- 
sensual ,  and  essentinlly  unmaterial.  whose  ways  are  not 
the  ways  of  matter,  nor  the  laws  of  matter  its  laws; 
and  if  this  be  so.  io  tiiis  region  is  to  be  sought  by  faith 
a  reconciliation  of  all  the  contradictions  that  torment 


i 


us:  or  else,  if  all  this  be  untrue,  then  there  are  really  in 
thmgs  no  contradictions  at  all,  except  those  of  our  own 
making.  Man's  moral  and  spiritual  life  is  a  dream. 
Justice  is  nothing  but  a  name.  It  is  not  a  power,  and 
there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  look  for  its  suprem- 
acy. Men  are  nothing  but  machines, — forces  of  na- 
ture, by  some  means  or  other  become  self-conscious; 
but  their  lives  are  without  any  sigaiticance  whatsoever. 
They  are  but  a  brief  series  of  so  many  sensations  of 
pleasure  and  of  pain.  If  we  give  life  so  little  meaning 
as  this,  we  shall  of  course  have  less  to  do  to  explain  it. 
And  yet  even  if  we  look  upon  it  in  this  way,  we  shall, 
as  has  been  said  before,  not  have  explained  it.  The 
perplexity,  however,  which  besets  the  modern  world,  is 
not  the  inability  to  explain  hoic  physical  processes  are 
related  to  the  facts  of  consciousness,  as  to  determine 
what,  if  that  relation  be  what  many  think  it  is,  the  facts 
of  consciousness  may  be  worth,  and  if  they  have  any 
significance  at  all  beyond  themselves. 

On  the  whole,  if  we  compare  the  state  of  men's 
minds  now"  with  the  state  of  men's  minds  as  exempli- 
fied by  Lucretius,  it  will  be  hard  to  say  that  we  have 
arrived  at  a  clearer  or  more  satisfactory  view  of  things. 
We  have  grown  wiser,  it  is  true;  but  we  have  (so  far 
as  mere  human  intellect  goes)  growni  wiser  only  by 
having  come  to  recognize  what  a  very  short  way  our 
human  wisdom  carries  u^.  Modern  dcieuQft,;  a3  p  mat- 
ter of  fact,  leaves  us  in  ^grfater p?rpl'?x}1;y; tnfiu  J'd  an- 
cient science.  In  some  ways  it  may  simplify  the  mys- 
tery of  things.  But  it  colKentl•^Jt^s  tlii^s-oystery  .a3  weU 
as  simplifies  it.  It  may  red  i^ceir  into  a  slmUler  cc-n^pa^s, 
but  it  leaves  it  more  impenetrable.  Failh,'aiidtlie  vari- 
ous theologies  in  which  faitli  end)cdi.esU«elf,  offer  to  cut 
the  knot.    Science  can  o.;ly  siaisf>  us  oy  asisuncg  us 


■^iiRifKi^;^' 


156 


LUCRETIUS. 


GREEN'S  HISTORY  OF 


that,  as  far  as  our  moral  life  goes,  there  is  no  knot  to 
cut.  Philosophy  again  steps  in,  and  claims  that  science 
depends  on  it,  and  can  have  no  certainty  that  is  not  de- 
rived from  it. 

And  now  on  all  sides  we  see  faith  failing,  philoso- 
pliies  in  conflict,  and  science,  though  its  superstructure 
is  daily  growing,  feeling  its  foundations  becoming  more 
and  more  insecure.  And  amongst  the  most  thoughtful 
minds,  who  cannot  accept  faith  as  the  guide  of  life, 
and  who  yet  feel  that  reason  alone  will  not  take  the 
place  of  it,  w^e  find  traces  theoretically,  if  not  practic- 
ally, of  a  despondent  scepticism.  Let  us  do  our  best, 
they  say,  and  live  by  what  light  we  have.  But  these 
lights  are  very  feeble,  and  their  strongest  rays  are  lost 
in  the  gloom  beyond  us. 

"  W»'  are  such  stiiflf 
As  dreams  are  made  of,  and  our  little  life 
Is  rounded  with  asleep." 


THE  END. 


- 


THE   ENGLISH   PEOPLE 


THE    LARGER   HISTORY   OF   THE   ENGLISH   PEOPLE 

By  John  Kichanl  <;ri-»'ii,  Elzevir  Edition.  Complete  in  five  v.. Is.. 
Brevier  tyiH\  leade.l,  J.l^t;  images.  I'er  set.  cloth,  $2;  half  IUi>si:'.. 
red  edges.  $2.50. 

"No  man  can  claim  to  be  thoroughly  posted  on  English  history  un- 
less he  has  read  Green.  The  enthusiasm  ami  painstaking accunicy 
of  the  author,  and  the  luminous  style  in  whieli  he  writes,  stamp  th<> 
history  as  a  classic.  Ev«'ry  man  who  has  Anglo  Saxon  bloo<l  in  Ins 
veins  will  be  thrilled  through  and  through  by  the  author's  tribute  to 
the  race.  It  will  live  long  as  the  most  attractive  of  the  numerou.s 
English  histories."— C'r/if Hi/  Baptist  st    I.ouis. 

'  Green's  History  Is  one  of  the  most  brilliant  and  thoroughly  valu- 
able historical  works  which  has  appeared  in  many  years.  Fairly 
ranking  with  Macaulay's  great  work  in  the  absorbing  int.rest  of  its 
narrative,  it  exe.ls  that  in  adaptation  to  popular  needs,  in  that  it 
covers  the  entire  period  of  English  history  from  the  earliest  to 
modern  times,  instead  of  a  brief  period  as  docs  Macaulay  --Method 
ist  Recorder  Pittsburg  Pa. 

'•  In  many  respects  the  most  satisfactory  Ili.story  of  England  that 
has  yet  been  written.  It  is  certainly  wonderfully  cheap/ -r/ic 
Sorth  American,  Philadelphia. 

"The  edition  Is  both  cheap  and  excellent.-    //t-mZrf,  Syracuse.  N.Y 

"Green's  justly  celebrated  Hi-story  ousht  certainly  now  to  find  a 
place  in  every  home.   -Democrat  aud  Chronicle.  Rochester 

-  It  is  far  the  best  popular  history  of  English  civUization  and  the 
progress  of  civil  liberty  and  social  advancement  in  the  British  Isles. 
The  cheapness  of  this  elegant  edition  places  it  within  the  reach  of 
readers  of  the  most  limited  means." -Zion's  Herald,  Boston,  Mass. 

"Very  handsome,  convenient,  andmarvelously  cheap."-.'»femofZisf 
Recorder,  Pittsburg,  Pa. 

■  In  ftve  handy  and  tasteful  volumes  at  an  economy  of  cost  that 
is  hardly  less  than  a  muryt'V'-The  Inferior  Chicago.  111. 

*  The  publishers  have  don*-  the  public  a  marked  service  in  placing 
within  reach,  at  such  a  marvelously  low  price.  Green's  justly  cele- 
brated and  very  valuable  History  of  the  English  People. "-Journal. 
Chicago,  111.  '^^ 


CYCLOPEDIA    OF    FICTION. 

The  below  mentioned  volumes  are  all  printed 
in  the  very  l)e.iiitifiil  large  Long  Primer  type 
which  is  shown  in  these  three  lines. 

In  this  series  it  is  intemlcd  tu  iaclu.lc,  unabridged,  the  l)est  work 
of  each  of  the  great  authors  of  th.-  world  who  h;ivf  won  enuuent 
place  in  the  realm  of  Ik-tioii.  Tho.' i  harartiri^tic  vohnius  make 
you  acquainted  with  these  famous  writers,  in.t  to  know  som«tlun>,' 
of  whom  would  he  lamentable  iKiior.uHc  ;  ;itTord  you  an  infinite 
amount  of  pleasant  recreation,  and  ot  ri  nlly  ux  ful  knowledtre;  f(»r 
fiction,  better  than  liistory,  knuwKdL^c  .>f  the  lit".'  of 

the  people  in  the  various  age-s  and  c*)uutii-  .>  in  w  iiiiii  it 


;u'i' 


laid.    The  following  may  Ite  >' 
Hyperion— Modern  life  of  tlit 


.}^U 


ri  i»reseuiiiife 


«i  iiu  J  H  >tt. 


Thult — Modern  Koujauee,  art  and  seenerv  of  North  British  I-lts. 
A*laui  riede  -North  of  England  country  life  in  the  last  I'.ntury. 
Hypatia— Egyptian  and  Roman  life  in  the  first  centurv. 
Ivanhoe— English  life  in  tiie  romantic  era  of  the  C'nisadrs. 
Pompeii-Lif<-  in  and  fate  of,  a  Komaii  citv  in  the  tirst  centurv. 
^opperfleld— Lower  ami  middle  classes  of  tuKland,  recent  tiines 
lane  Eyre--Une.|ualed  pictures  of  ccrtjuu  pluises  of  Enirlish  life, 
rohn  Hahfa-v-EnKlisii  fife  again,  nobility  in  xhv  eomiiion. 


atia— Egyptian  and  lioma 
I vanhoe— English  life  in  tiie  romantic  era  of  the  C'nisadrs. 
Pompeii-Life  in  and  fate  of,  a  Komaii  citv  in  the  tirst  centurv. 

Copperfleld-  ' ......      .  ,.  w,      .       . 

Jj 

J< 

Vanity  Fair-English  lite  ;  tlu-  keenest  of  nwxiern  satires. 

The  Spy-Green  3lountaiu  Boys-Aineriean  life  in  lievohition  times. 

The  Berl>er— Life  in  Siain  and  .Moroee<»  in  the  iTtii  centurv 

Horse-Shoe  Robinson— American  Kevolutionarv  Life. 

Wilhelra  Meister^  Goethe's  wonderful  ni(  dlv  oi"  pe.i.>.i!;t    i"  -<  i    intor 

life  in  Genua nv. 
Moonstone-East  Lynne-Influiteplot,  tragcdv,  iMih,,-,  m.Miern  tiuK— 

killing  entirtaiument. 

Hyperion.    By  Henry  W.  Longfellow.    ■2:i]KVJo<.    Cloth  45c. 

IJriucosof  Thule.    By  William  Bhick.    -Jt.l  pages.    Clotli,  50e. 

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V; 


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